"My  lord,  a  prize,  a  prize!'" — Henry  VI. 
SYLVIA,  the  heroine  of  this  story,  being  described  as 

"THE    MOST    BEAUTIFUL    WOMAN    IN    EUROPE,"    twelve 

artists,  known  for  their  types  of  beautiful  women,  were 
invited  each  to  make  a  drawing  expressing  a  conception 
of  the  character.  Their  pictures  are  all  reproduced  as 
illustrations  in  the  book.  Readers  are  now  invited  to  i  M 
choose  from  among  the  pictures  the  one  which,  in  their 
judgment,  represents  the  most  beautiful  woman,  and  to 
indicate  the  order  in  which  they  think  all  the  others 
should  rank.  A  PRIZE  OF  FIVE  HUNDRED 
DOLLARS  ($500.00)  will  be  given  by  the  publishers  to 
the  person  whose  list  comes  nearest  to  the  choice  of  the 
majority  in  accordance  with  the  following  plan  of  scor 
ing  by  points :  — 

THE    PLAN. 

The  picture  chosen  by  the  greatest  number  as  the 
most  beautiful  woman  will  give  to  each  person  naming 
that  picture  as  the  best  a  credit  of  twelve  (12)  points  in 
the  score.  The  picture  chosen  as  the  second  best  by 
the  greatest  number  will  give  to  each  person  naming 
it  as  the  second  choice  a  credit  of  eleven  (u)  points. 
The  third  choice  will  carry  a  credit  of  ten  (10)  points, 
and  so  on. 

On  this  plan  the  highest  possible  score  would  be : 

i2  +  n  +  io  +  9  +  8  +  7  +  6+  5  +  4  +  3+2  +  I=78. 

Other  scores  than  the  highest  might  be  made  up  as 
follows :  Suppose  Mr.  A  names  the  first  seven  according 
to  the  exact  order  determined  by  the  choice  of  the  great 
est  number,  but  is  wrong  in  all  the  others,  his  score 
would  be  as  given  below.  Miss  C,  who  gets  the  first 
three  and  the  last  two  wrong,  the  others  right,  would 
score  as  indicated  :  — 


MR.  A's  SCORE. 
Number.  Points, 


Total  score 


Miss  C's  SCORE. 
Number.  Points. 


Total  score 


Any  person  may  send  any  number  of  votes ;  but  each 
vote  must  be  on  the  coupon  provided  in  the  book,  and 
each  coupon  must  be  fully  made  out  in  accordance  with 
the  directions  below. 

Under  this  plan  it  is  unlikely  that  the  prize  will  be 
divided ;  but,  if  it  happens  that  there  should  be  a  tie 
on  the  highest  score,  then  the  prize  will  be  equally 
divided  among  the  persons  making  this  score. 

All  votes  must  be  received  by  Small,  Maynard  & 
Company  not  later  than  June  I,  1902,  on  which  date  the 
contest  will  close. 

DIRECTIONS. 

After  you  have  read  the  story,  fill  out  the  coupon  on 
the  page  opposite  to  this,  placing  the  figure  i  in  the 
little  square  opposite  the  name  of  the  artist  whose  picture, 
in  your  judgment,  represents  the  most  beautiful  woman. 
Place  the  figure  2  similarly  opposite  the  name  of  the 
artist  whose  picture  is  your  second  choice,  and  so  on 
through  the  entire  twelve. 

Write  your  name  and  address  plainly,  being  careful  to 
give  number  and  full  name  of  street,  if  in  a  city,  or  name 
of  county,  if  in  a  small  town. 

Send  all  coupons  to  the  publishers  : 

SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY,  BOSTON. 

"  Offer  to  choose,  and  choose  the  right.'1'' 

—  Merchant  of  Venice. 


SYLVIA   PRIZE   COUPON 

OF  the  pictures  of  SYLVIA  reproduced  herein,  my  choice, 
as  representing  the  most  beautiful  woman,  is  in  the  order 
indicated  by  the  numbers  (1,2,  3,  >;tc.)  which  I  set  down 
in  the  squares  opposite  the  names  of  the  artists,  as  follows: 

ALBERT  D.  BLASHFIELD 

"""S 

CARLE  J.   BLENNER 

'/">     / 

/  <y    i- 

J.   WELLS  CHAMPNEY 

<-"  , 

HOWARD  CHANDLER  CHRISTY 

v     " 

LOUISE  COX 

I 

JOSEPH  DE  CAMP 

)R 

JOHN    ELLIOTT 

-' 

C.  ALLAN    GILBERT 

ALBERT    HERTER 

HENRY    HUTT 

-0 

ALICE  BARBER  STEPHENS 

A.  B.  WENZELL 

My  Name  is 

Address.  

D  E  TAC  H    THIS    COUPON,    and  mail  it,   filled  out  as 
directed,   in   time  to  be  delivered  not  later  than  June  I,  1902.,  to 
SMALL,  MAYNARD  &   COMPANY,   Publishers,   BOSTON 

SYLVIA 

The  Story  of  an  American  Countess 


SYLVIA 

The   STORY    of  an 
AMERICAN    COUNTESS 

BY 
Evalyn   Emerson 


Boston 

Small,  Maynard  &  Company 
1901 


Copyright,  IQOI,  by 
Small,  Maynard  &  Company 

(Incorporated) 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 


Press  cf  George  H.  Ellis 
^  U.  S.  A. 


TO  Mr  DEAREST  FRIEND 
Mr  MOTHER 


SYLVIA 

as  portrayed  by 

ALBERT  D.  BLASHFIELD,  CARLE  J.  BLENNER,  J.  WELLS 
CHAMPNEY,  HOWARD  CHANDLER  CHRISTY, 
LOUISE  COX,  JOSEPH  DE  CAMP,  JOHN  ELLIOTT, 
C.  ALLAN  GILBERT,  ALBERT  HERTER,  HENRY  HUTT, 
ALICE  BARBER  STEPHENS,  A.  B.  WENZELL 


SYLVIA  by 
.  Alice  Barber  Stephens 

Copyri|hf,l90l,fay    Small,  May 


pany 


SYLVIA  by 

>losc[)h  De  Ciimp 

Copyri^ht-,l90l,by    Small.  Maynard  &  Co 


pany 


^r- *„• 

.-/        v  4 


SYLVIA  by 

C.Allan  Gilbert 

Copyri|ht-,l90l,by    Small,  Maynard  5  Company 


SYLVIA  by 
A.B.Wenzell 

Copyrighr,l90l,by   Sn 


all,  Maynard  5  Company 


SYLVIA  by 
J.Weils    (jhampney 

Copyri^ht-,1901,  t>y    Small.  Mayna 


-d  &  Com pany 


SYLVIA  by 
Albert  Hnrter 

Copyright- 1901,  by    Small,  May n a rd  &  Company 


SYLVIA  by 

Howard  Chandler  Christy 

Copyright-,l90l,by    Small.  Maynard  X  Company 


SYLVIA  by 

Henry  Hutt 

Gopyri£ht-,l90l,by    Small,  Maynard  5  Company 


SYLVIA  b 


Copyright-,l90l,by  John   Elliol 


SYLVIA  by 

Louise    Cox 
Copyrighf,l90l,by    Small.  Mayr 


rd  5  Company 


SYLVIA  by 
Carlo  J.  B leaner 

Copyri4hf,l90l,by    Small,  Maynard  X  Cor 


ipany 


SYLVIA  by 
Albert  D  BlasMeld 

Copyr!*ht-,l90l,by    Sma II.  Maynard  8  Company 


SYLVIA  :    THE   STORY  OF  AN 
AMERICAN  COUNTESS 


CHAPTER  I 


Two  gentlemen  were  seated  at  a  small  table 
before  the  Cafe  Florian  in  the  Piazza.  San 
Marco.  They  had  met  in  Venice  but  that 
same  afternoon.  Each  was  tall,  broad-shoul 
dered,  smooth-faced,  well-groomed — the  finest 
type  of  the  best  American  young  men.  They 
bore  the  indescribable,  but  unmistakable,  hall 
mark  of  New  York.  New  Yorkers  they  were, 
and  friends  of  old  and  long  standing,  Eric 
Fielding  and  Philip  Monroe. 

"  If  we  had  only  known  sooner  of  our 
common  desire  for  a  glimpse  of  Italy,  we 
might  have  arranged  to  come  together,"  said 
Eric. 

"  But  now  that  we  have  met,  why  not  con 
tinue  together?"  asked  Philip. 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

"  I  should  like  nothing  better,  but  I  fear  that 
it  is  impossible,  as  I  sail  for  home  from  Genoa 
the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  The  day  after  to-morrow  ?  That's  hard 
luck.  Why  do  you  go  back  so  soon?  Stay 
here,  and  I  will  show  you  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  Europe." 

As  he  spoke,  his  eyes  strayed  toward  the 
open  Square,  and  catching  sight  of  a  party  of 
young  people  who  stood  there,  he  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  surprise. 

"  By  Jove,  Eric,  speaking  of  angels,  there 
she  is  now!  " 

"The  most  beautiful  woman  in  Europe?" 
asked  Eric,  smiling  at  the  enthusiasm  ex 
pressed  in  his  friend's  face. 

"  Yes.  Look,  she  stands  out  there,  a  little 
apart  from  the  others,  the  girl  with  the  bright 
hair." 

Eric  turned  leisurely,  following  his  friend's 
gaze.  But  his  amusement  at  Philip's  enthusi 
asm  ceased  as  he  looked  at  the  girl.  He  drew 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

in  his  breath  quickly,  and  half  arose,  in  his 
sudden  admiration. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  moment's 
silence. 

Philip  glanced  at  him  quickly;  it  was  now 
his  turn  to  be  amused. 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  interested  if  you 
saw  her,"  he  said. 

Eric  forgot  his  usually  calm  indifference 
when  speaking  of  a  girl.  He  was,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  anxious  to  be  told  something 
about  one. 

"  I  have  never  met  her,"  said  Philip.  "  I 
know  no  one  here  to  introduce  me.  But  a 
friend  of  mine,  an  artist,  told  me  that  she  is  a 
French  Countess,  visiting  some  friends  at  one 
of  the  palaces  near  our  hotel  on  the  Grand 
Canal.  My  friend  is  wild  over  her.  You 
know  him,  by  the  way — Leigh  Dunlop — he 
lived  in  New  York  before  he  came  abroad  to 
study.  I  met  him  here  only  a  few  days  ago, 
and  he  began  almost  immediately  to  sing  her 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

praises,  and  when  I  saw  her  I  did  not  blame 
him.  We  have  spent  most  of  our  time  in 
devising  means  of  discovering  where  she 
would  be  each  day,  so  that  we  could  watch 
her  unobserved,  from  a  safe  distance.  We 
have  seen  her  twice  here  in  the  Square,  once 
at  the  Doge's  Palace,  and  several  times  in  a 
gondola  in  the  evening.  We  are  in  luck  this 
afternoon.  She  is  better  worth  seeing  than 
anything  in  Europe.  Heavens!  one  would 
give  his  soul  just  for  a  chance  to  win  a  smile 
from  her.  Look  at  her  now  as  she  stands 
feeding  those  pigeons;  did  you  ever  see  any 
thing  so  perfect  ?  " 

"  She  seems  too  perfect  to  be  real,"  said 
Eric  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  exclaimed  Philip,  "  if  you 
will  only  stay  longer,  you  will  catch  the  fever 
too.  You  can  join  forces  with  Leigh  and 
me,  and  we  three  will  worship  her  from 
afar.  Won't  you  give  up  your  passage  and 
stay?" 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

Eric  arose  abruptly  and  turned  his  back 
on  the  gay  scene  in  the  Square. 

"  Absurd,  Philip,  he  said  with  a  short 
laugh.  "  My  ship  sails  day  after  to-morrow, 
and  I  sail  with  her,  in  spite  of  all  '  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  Europe.' '  His  voice 
softened  unconsciously  a  little  at  the  last  of  this 
sentence,  despite  his  attempted  gaiety. 
"  Come,"  he  said,  "  let  us  go  find  our  gondola. 
I  have  a  mind  for  a  drift  down  the  Grand 
Canal  before  dinner." 

But  Philip  did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  His 
eyes  and  thoughts  were  still  on  the  girl.  She 
had  left  the  pigeons  and  was  coming  with  her 
friends  toward  the  Arcade,  to  join  the  throng 
that  was  enjoying  ices  at  the  cafes. 

"  She  is  coming  here — to  this  very  cafe, 
Eric.  I  knew  she  would  come  to  this  one,  if 
she  appeared  this  afternoon,  for  here  is  where 
we  found  her  before." 

'  Then  there  is  all  the  more  reason  to  leave," 
said  Eric.  "  We  cannot  sit  here  and  watch 


5 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

her.  If  you  have  done  it  before,  you  will  be 
sure  to  be  observed  either  by  her  or  one  of 
her  friends.  Come,  man,  before  you  make  a 
fool  of  yourself/' 

Philip  smiled  a  little,  in  acknowledgment 
that  Eric  was  right.  He  arose,  and  they  went 
as  quickly  as  possible  through  the  throng  to 
ward  the  other  end  of  the  Square  where  their 
gondola  awaited  them. 

"  But  you  must  admit,''  said  Philip,  as  they 
settled  back  in  the  luxurious  cushions  of  the 
craft,  "  that  she  is  marvellously  beautiful,  and 
that  your  hurrying  me  away  was  not  indiffer 
ence  to  her  charms,  but  merely  fear  that  you 
might  become  as  enthusiastic  as  Leigh  and  I, 
if  you  saw  much  more  of  her." 

"  I  admit  nothing,"  said  Eric. 

"  I  am  willing  to  wager,"  went  on  Philip, 
"  that  three-quarters  of  the  men  who  are  in 
love  with  her — and  there  are  enough  of  them 
too — fell  in  love  at  first  sight.  Her  beauty  is 
not  only  greater  than  that  of  other  girls,  but 


An  AMERICAN   COUNTESS 

it  is  rare  in  that  it  holds  infinite  possibilities 
for  one's  imagination.  You  feel  so  sure  that 
she  is  what  she  seems.  That  girl  has  a  soul 
as  beautiful  as  her  face." 

"  I  was  not  near  enough  to  see  the  soul," 
said  Eric. 

Philip  looked  at  him  a  trifle  irritated. 

"  Come,  now,  don't  ridicule  me.  You  know 
that  you  admire  her.  No  man  who  is  a  man 
could  help  it.  You  will  not  admit  it,  and 
you  try  to  laugh  it  off,  but  I  know  how  you 
are  hit.  I  know  that  you  will  think  of  her 
for  many  a  day,  even  if  you  do  not  see  her 
again." 

Eric  was  silent.  Philip  had  a  way  of  saying 
things  that  was  very  convincing.  And  Eric 
was  wondering  if  he  was  really  right  this  time. 
What  if  he  should  remain  and  see  her  again, 
perhaps  meet  her  and  become  as  fascinated 
as  the  other  men  seemed  to  be?  They  drew 
up  to  the  hotel,  and  he  jumped  quickly  out  to 
the  steps. 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  No,  that  is  impossible,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  "  it  would  be  madness."  Just  before 
dinner,  Leigh  Dunlop  joined  them,  and  the 
three  men  dined  together.  When  dinner  was 
over  and  they  had  gone  out  on  one  of  the 
balconies  overlooking  the  Grand  Canal,  to 
smoke  their  cigars,  Leigh  exclaimed: 

"  By  Jove,  Philip,  meeting  Eric,  and  talk 
ing  over  old  times,  made  me  almost  forget  to 
tell  you  the  good  news.  I  have  met  her! " 

"  The  Countess  ?  "  cried  Philip. 

"  Yes,  this  afternoon  in  the  Piazza..  I  ran 
across  Dick  Ames,  and  I  asked  him  where  he 
was  going.  He  said  he  had  just  caught  sight 
of  some  friends  at  Florian's,  and  was  going  to 
speak  to  them.  He  told  me  to  come  along, 
and  imagine  my  feelings  when  I  discovered  he 
was  taking  me  straight  to  our  Countess!  He 
introduced  me  to  her — I  was  so  amazed  I 
nearly  forgot  my  good  manners.  I  could  only 
stand  and  gaze  at  her  like  an  idiot.  She  was 
with  her  aunt,  a  Venetian  Baroness,  and  some 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

friends  who  are  visiting  the  Baroness.  When 
we  left  them,  Dick  told  me  all  about  her.  It 
seems  that  she  is  an  Italian  Countess,  not 
French,  and  she  lives  in  Nice.  Her  aunt,  the 
Baroness,  lives  with  her,  as  her  parents  are 
dead.  She  has  any  amount  of  money,  and  is 
all  the  rage  in  Nice.  When  Dick  was  there, 
he  attended  several  balls  at  her  house,  and  is 
on  very  friendly  terms  with  her  and  the 
Baroness.  You  remember,  he  has  lived  in 
Italy  five  years,  and  through  Lord  Raleigh, 
who  is  a  cousin  of  his,  he  has  met  some  of  the 
best  people  in  Italy  and  throughout  Europe." 

"  He  is  in  luck,"  said  Philip. 

"  And  so  am  I  to  have  met  her,  and  so 
will  you  be  to-morrow  night,  for  I  told  Dick 
he  must  take  us  there.  The  Baroness  gives  a 
large  reception,  and  Dick  said  he  thought  he 
could  get  cards  for  us.  What  do  you  think  of 
that?" 

"  It  is  magnificent,"  said  Philip. 

"  And  you  will  want  to  come  too,  won't  you, 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

Eric  ?  I  am  sure  that  he  can  get  a  card  for  you 
also,"  said  Leigh. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Eric,  "  I  appreciate  your 
offer,  but  I  sail  for  home  on  Wednesday." 

"Home?    Oh,  yes,  of  course — Edith!" 

"Edith!"  exclaimed  Philip.  "What  of 
her?" 

"  Hadn't  you  heard  that  Eric  is  engaged  to 
her?" 

Philip  looked  quickly  at  Eric. 

"  No,  is  that  true  ?  Why,  my  congratula 
tions,  old  man.  I  wonder  how  it  has  happened 
that  I  have  not  heard.  I  see  now  why  we 
cannot  persuade  you  to  stay  longer — even  to 
meet  the  beautiful  Countess.  Hullo !  there  she 
is  again ! " 

The  eyes  of  the  others  instinctively  followed 
his  gaze,  down  upon  the  many  gondolas  pass 
ing  to  and  fro  on  the  canal. 

"  Yes,"  said  Leigh,  "  there  she  is  in  the  gon 
dola  just  opposite,  with  the  Baroness  and  two 
men." 


10 


Eric  looked  down,  watching  her  intently, 
as  the  boat  drifted  past.  A  strange  thrill  came 
over  him ;  perhaps  it  was  merely  the  influence 
of  the  two  men  who  were  with  him,  but  he 
seemed  to  forget  everything  else  in  the  world 
but  the  beautiful  face  of  the  girl  so  near  him. 
The  brilliant  lights  from  the  hotel  fell  on  the 
canal,  and  made  the  scene  as  bright  as  day 
light.  In  a  moment  it  was  over,  the  gondola 
glided  past  into  the  shadows  beyond;  but  the 
remembrance  of  her  indescribable  charm  re 
mained  so  vivid,  that  none  of  the  three  men 
spoke  for  some  time. 


ii 


CHAPTER  II. 


ONE  rainy  afternoon,  about  a  week  later, 
Philip  was  standing  at  the  window  in  his  room 
at  the  hotel,  looking  idly  out.  He  felt  restless 
and  depressed,  longing  for  something,  he 
hardly  knew  what,  and  yet  down  deep,  he 
dimly  understood  his  longing,  but  it  seemed 
hopelessly  unattainable.  He  had  been  alone 
all  day.  Leigh  had  gone  out  somewhere  early 
in  the  morning,  and  Philip  had  called  at  Dick's 
hotel  only  tp  find  him  out.  He  had  discon 
solately  returned  to  his  own  hotel,  trying  to 
pass  the  time  in  reading.  But  his  thoughts 
wandered  from  his  book  and  he  found  himself 
gazing  blankly  at  the  pages,  or  jumping  up 
and  striding  about  the  room,  or  peering  out 
of  the  window.  Now  he  turned  and  went  back 
to  the  table,  throwing  himself  dejectedly  into 
a  great  easy  chair.  He  made  no  further  pre 
tence  of  reading,  but  rested  his  elbows  on  the 
table,  thinking.  So  intent  was  he  on  his 

12 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

thoughts,  that  he  did  not  hear  a  knock  at  the 
door,  nor  that  the  handle  turned  and  a  man 
slowly  entered.  It  was  Dick,  who  stood 
quietly  surveying  him  a  moment.  Then  he 
gave  a  little  low  whistle  and  came  forward. 

" '  In  Venice  the  Golden  to  dream — to 
dream ! '  Dreams  are  all  very  well  in  their 
way,  old  man,"  said  Dick  laughing,  "  but  take 
care  you  do  not  count  on  their  proving  true." 

"  Dick!"  exclaimed  Philip.  "Thank  Heaven 
you  have  come!  Such  a  day  to  spend  utterly 
alone !  Where  have  you  been,  old  chap  ?  " 

"Oh!"  said  Dick,  slowly  helping  himself 
to  a  cigar  and  sitting  down  comfortably, 
"  since  luncheon  I  have  been  writing  letters, 
and  this  morning — this  morning — I — called — 
on — the — Countess !  " 

He  watched  Philip  in  an  amused  way  as  he 
said  this.  Philip  involuntarily  gave  a  little 
start. 

"  In  the  morning !  "  he  said,  as  if  to  him 
self. 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

"Why;  may  I  not  enjoy  a  chat  with  her 
in  the  morning,  when  you  monopolised  her  last 
evening?  " 

"  I?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  when  we  called.  Did  I  not 
beguile  the  duenna-Baroness,  so  that  you 
might  bask  in  the  smiles  of  the  charming 
Countess?  And  then  that  afternoon  at  the 
Square,  the  day  after  the  reception,  did  I  not 
then,  also,  talk  to  the  aunt?  Oh,  I  say,  old 
fellow,  you  do  not  half  appreciate  my  sacri 
fices  on  the  altar  of  friendship.  And  at  the 
reception  too — when  you  first  met  her — she 
talked  to  you  for  a  long  time,  and  I  was  for 
gotten." 

"  A  long  time !  "  said  Philip.  ''  For  just 
about  one  minute,  and  last  night  you  would 
only  stay  half  an  hour,  and  at  the  Square,  we 
were  hardly  more  than  seated  when  they  had  to 
return  home." 

"  But  we  were  there  a  whole  hour  at  the 
least." 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Even  so, — an  hour,  half  an  hour,  and  one 
moment,  in  a  whole  week!" 

Dick  was  silent  a  moment.  He  did  not 
laugh  as  was  his  wont. 

"  I  fear  that  you  have  it  badly,  Philip." 

"And  haven't  you  too?"  replied  Philip 
jealously. 

"I?  Never!"  exclaimed  Dick.  "Heaven 
forbid !  I  am  too  old,  and  too  wise,  to  be  in 
love." 

"  Then  why  do  you  go  to  see  her  in  the 
mornings?  Why  do  you  haunt  the  place? 
Why  are  you  there  morning,  noon  and  night, 
and  yet  have  taken  me  but  twice?  " 

"  I  admit  that  she  is  attractive,"  said  Dick 
provokingly,  "  and  I  enjoy  her  society,  I  really 
think,  better  than  that  of  any  other  woman  in 
Venice.  Behold  the  reason  that  takes  me  there 
so  often.  But  do  not  reproach  me  for  not 
taking  you  oftener,  O,  ungrateful  mortal!  I 
have  done  so  as  much  as  I  felt  that  I  could  at 
first.  Wait  until  you  know  her  better,  then 

15 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

you  can  go  as  often,  yea,  even  more  often  than 
I  do." 

"I  do  believe  you  are  laughing  at  me,"  said 
Philip.  "  You  can  but  see  that  I  am  far  gone, 
and  if  you  are  not  in  love  yourself,  you  need 
not  laugh  at  a  fellow  who  is." 

"  No,"  said  Dick  seriously,  "  I  am  not 
laughing  at  you.  I  can  but  be  amused,  for  you 
are  so  tremendously  in  earnest,  and  she  has 
taken  you  more  by  storm  than  she  has  any  of 
her  other  admirers.  And  yet,  do  you  know, 
I  like  to  see  it.  A  man  who  is  in  love  is  an 
interesting  study  to  his  fellowmen." 

"  I  do  not  understand  how  you  can  know 
her  and  not  love  her,"  said  Philip. 

"  In  the  first  place,  as  I  told  you,  I  am  too 
old  to  let  myself  go.  In  the  second  place,  I 
find  the  position  of  Sylvia's  friend  far  too  at 
tractive  for  me  to  risk  changing  it  for  the 
role  of  suitor.  I  am  more  like  an  elder 
brother,  and,  in  a  small  way,  adviser.  She  is 


16 


An  AMERICAN   COUNTESS 

good  enough  to  confide  some  of  her  secrets  to 
me,  and  occasionally  ask  my  advice/' 

Philip  sat  silent,  and  after  a  few  moments 
Dick  continued :  "  Philip,  would  you  like  to 
marry  the  Countess?" 

"  Great  Heavens,  haven't  I  just  told  you 
that  I  adore  her?  " 

"  Then  why  don't  you  ask  her  to  marry 
you?" 

"  I  intend  to — some  day." 

"  But  I  mean  now,  at  once.  '  Some  day.' 
may  be  too  late." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  She  is  not  thinking 
of  marrying?  " 

"  Not  exactly  thinking  of  it,  and  yet  she 
may  decide  to  marry.  The  fact  is,  her  aunt  is 
determined  that  she  shall  accept  an  English 
duke.  And  I  have  a  sneaking  fear  that  the 
Baroness  may  win,  if  something  is  not  done  to 
block  her.  If  you  will  step  in,  make  Sylvia 
love  you — you  know  she  always  likes  Ameri- 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

cans — who  knows?  you  might  be  able  to  cut 
the  duke  out." 

"  By  Jove,  I'll  try.  It  seems  to  me  like 
striving  for  the  moon,  but  I  love  her." 

"  True,"  said  Dick.  "  But  we  have  no  time 
to  waste,  let  us  begin  our  campaign  at  once. 
I  thought  of  you  this  morning  when  I  was 
with  her,  so  I  enquired  if  she  was  to  be  at 
home  and  disengaged  this  evening.  She  said 
that  her  aunt  was  going  to  a  ball,  but  that  she 
was  not  going.  I  believe  the  duke  asked  if 
he  might  accompany  them,  and  so  she  refused. 
Then  I  asked  if  we  might  call  so  soon  again, 
and  she  said  certainly.  So  there  you  are." 

"  Dick,  you're  a  trump !  " 

"  Don't  thank  me,"  said  Dick,  "  I  believe  I 
am  doing  as  much  for  her  as  I  am  for  you, 
in  helping  along  your  suit,  for  I  am  fond  of 
the  girl — in  a  brotherly  way — and  I  should 
like  to  see  her  happily  married  to  a  good,  hon 
est  fellow  like  you.  To  confess  the  truth,  I 
am  afraid  of  the  Baroness.  She  is  a  good 

18 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

woman  in  her  way,  but  she  is  worldly  and 
scheming;  she  wants  Sylvia  to  marry  a  title, 
not  a  man.  She  is  clever,  and  would  go  to 
almost  any  honest  ends — and  what  ends  would 
not  an  ambitious  woman  consider  honest? — 
to  persuade  Sylvia  that  it  is  her  duty  to  obey." 

"But  what  of  the  duke?"  asked  Philip. 
"  Perhaps  the  Countess  loves  him?  If  so " 

'  The  duke,"  interrupted  Dick,  "  is  like 
Shakespeare's  French  lord,  Monsieur  Le  Bon, 
'  Heaven  made  him,  therefore  let  him  pass  for 
a  man/  There  is  no  danger  of  Sylvia's  heart 
being  affected  by  him.  It  is  merely  her  sense 
of  duty  that  I  fear.  Her  aunt  has  been  most 
kind  to  her,  entirely  devoted,  ever  since  her 
father's  death,  three  years  ago,  and  Sylvia, 
who  is  grateful  and  conscientious,  may  think 
she  ought  to  please  her  aunt.  But  if  she 
could  only  fall  in  love  with  a  man  like  you,  a 
plain,  honest  gentleman,  with  plenty  of  brains, 
and  a  big  loving  heart  to  make  a  woman 
happy,  not  forgetting  a  fortune  left  by  a  de- 

19 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

voted  father,  which  can  be  used  for  her  com 
fort.  Ah,  lucky  dog!  why  was  I  not  left  a 
million  or  two,  instead  of  having  to  work  and 
work  in  order  to  be  able  to  put  butter  on  my 
bread?  But,  as  I  was  saying,  if  Sylvia  should 
fall  in  love  with  such  a  man  as  you,  she  would 
never  think  that  she  must  marry  to  please  her 
aunt;  she  would  marry  you,  and  all  would  be 
well." 

"  God  grant  it,"  said  Philip  earnestly. 

A  few  hours  later,  the  two  friends  found 
themselves  in  the  reception  room  of  the  Baron 
ess'  palace,  waiting  while  the  footman  took 
their  cards  to  the  Countess.  The  large  rooms 
of  the  lower  floor  opened  into  each  other, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  long  suite  could  be  seen 
a  large  court  filled  with  flowers,  palms  and 
other  tropical  plants.  From  this  court  came 
softly  the  strains  of  a  harp. 

"  It  is  not  the  Countess,  is  it  ?  "  said  Philip. 

"  No,"  answered  Dick,  "  she  does  not  play 
the  harp,  but  the  violin !  Ah,  you  should  hear 

20 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

her  play  if  you  want  to  feel  yourself  in 
Heaven." 

A  merry  peal  of  girlish  laughter  greeted  this 
remark. 

"  You  grow  poetical,  my  friend,"  said  the 
Countess,  coming  toward  them.  "  You  see  I 
came  down  more  promptly  than  you  thought, 
and  I  could  not  help  overhearing  that  pretty 
speech.  But  perhaps  you  heard  me  coming 
and  had  it  all  prepared  ?  " 

"  Most  cruel  maiden,"  said  Dick,  bowing 
gracefully  over  the  hand  she  offered  him,  "  to 
accuse  me  of  flattery.  You  know  I  meant 
every  word — in  fact  more,  that  I  may  not 
express." 

The  Countess  made  no  reply  save  another 
rippling  laugh.  She  never  knew  whether  or 
not  to  take  Dick  seriously.  He  was  always 
making  pretty  speeches  to  her  which  she  inva 
riably  met  with  a  laugh,  and  this  seemed  to 
please  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  often  laid 
these  verbal  traps  in  order  to  provoke  her 

21 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

girlish  merriment,  although  underneath  all  he 
said  there  ran  a  current  of  sincerity. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Monroe,"  said  the 
Countess,  turning  to  shake  hands  with  Philip. 
"  I  am  glad  you  wanted  to  come  again  to 
night.  Americans  are  always  very  welcome. 
I  love  to  talk  of  my  country,  for  you  know,  I 
feel  as  if  it  was  much  more  my  country  than 
Italy  is." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Philip  delightedly, 
for  he  also  was  an  enthusiastic  American. 

"  Yes,"  went  on  Sylvia,  "  I  was  born  in  the 
United  States  and  lived  there  until  four  years 
ago.  Certainly  I  love  Italy,  dear,  old,  sunny 
Italy!  But  America — ah,  that  is  where  my 
heart  is! " 

"Your  heart?"  exclaimed  Philip,  more  to 
himself  than  to  her,  but  Sylvia  heard  him. 

"  Yes,  my  heart,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  A  propos,  not  at  all  of  hearts,"  said  Dick. 
"  I  want  to  knowr  if  you  will  not  play  for  us? 
It  is  ever  so  long  since  I  have  heard  you,  and 

22 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

Philip,  who  has  not  had  that  joy,  has  not  really 
lived." 

"  Then  I  must  not  keep  him  from  living  any 
longer,"  said  Sylvia.  "  Pardon  me  while  I  go 
for  my  violin." 

"  What  a  delicious  laugh  she  has,"  said 
Philip  wrhen  she  had  gone. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Dick,  "  she  is  always 
merry.  We  men  do  our  best  to  amuse  her  in 
order  to  hear  her  laugh — it  is  such  an  infectious 
one,  it  drives  away  a  fellow's  blues  only  to 
hear  her.  One  always  finds  her  so  joyous,  as 
if  the  mere  fact  that  she  is  young  and  beauti 
ful  makes  her  glad.  And  why  shouldn't  it? 
But  now  listen  " — he  spoke  in  a  low,  hurried 
tone — "  I  have  everything  planned.  You  did 
not  think  I  came  here  with  you  this  evening  to 
sit  about  as  a  sort  of  a  chaperon  to  your  love- 
making?  No,  I  will  leave  you  alone  in  a  little 
while,  and  my  excuse  will  be  this :  after  Sylvia 
plays  for  us,  she  will  ask  me  to  play — it  will 
be  like  candlelight  after  sunlight. — however, 

23 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

I  shall  do  it.  I  have  done  it  before,  as  I  enjoy 
playing,  myself,  in  a  small  way.  And  as  I 
can  play  only  with  notes,  and  like  to  have  an 
accompanist,  I  shall  go  out  into  the  court 
where  you  hear  that  harpist,  and  he  and  I  will 
absorb  ourselves  in  each  other,  as  we  often  do 
when  I  come  here — and  lo,  the  field  is  yours ! " 
Before  Philip  had  time  to  reply,  they  heard 
the  light  footfall  of  the  Countess  coming  down 
the  stairs,  whereupon  Dick  fell  to  discoursing 
learnedly  on  the  origin  of  the  violin. 


24 


CHAPTER  III 


THE  charmed  silence  which  followed  the 
last  lingering  notes  from  Sylvia's  bow  was 
broken  by  the  fair  musician  herself,  who  ex 
claimed  :  "  It  is  your  turn  now,  Dick ;  I  want 
to  hear  some  playing  beside  my  own.  Here  is 
some  of  your  music,  please  play  for  me." 

Protesting  with  perfect  sincerity  his  inabil 
ity  to  give  any  such  pleasure  as  he  had  just 
experienced,  Dick  acquiesced  in  her  desire, 
and  at  the  same  time  carried  out  his  own  plan, 
by  joining  the  harpist  in  the  inner  court,  leav 
ing  Philip  and  Sylvia  alone.  Philip  had 
neither  moved  nor  spoken  during  this  time. 
Sylvia's  marvellous  playing  seemed  to  have 
left  him  fairly  entranced.  As  is  so  often  the 
case  with  natures  intensely  musical,  yet  lack 
ing  utterly  the  power  of  expression,  music 
with  him  was  a  passion  which  was  almost  a 
pain,  he  felt  and  loved  so  deeply  the  art  for 
which  he  had  no  gift  of  expression.  Sylvia's 

25 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

playing  might  well  satisfy  even  a  cultivated 
musician — to  Philip  it  was  simply  perfect,  and 
he  unconsciously  paid  it  the  highest  tribute,  by 
actually  forgetting  the  beautiful  girl,  in  the 
delight  of  listening  to  the  gifted  violinist. 
Roused  by  the  silence  which  followed  Dick's 
departure,  Philip  woke  to  the  realisation  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  alone  with  the  girl  he  had 
grown  to  love  so  deeply  in  these  last  few 
weeks,  and,  man-like,  the  music-lover  once 
more  became  the  woman-lover,  and  he  changed 
his  mental  attitude,  by  forgetting  the  gifted 
violinist  in  gazing  at  the  beautiful  girl,  who 
was  quietly,  almost  dreamily  watching  him 
from  the  depths  of  the  luxurious  chair  into 
which  she  had  sunk,  after  finishing  her  play 
ing.  He  started  to  his  feet  impulsively,  not 
knowing  just  what  he  intended  to  do,  but 
moved  and  thrilled  as  he  had  never  been  in  all 
his  life  before. 

"  Sit  down  again,"  said  Sylvia  gently.     "  I 
see  in  your  eyes  that  you  love  music." 

26 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

But  he  remained  standing. 

"  I  love  music,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  and 
I  love  you — I  love  you  with  my  whole  soul, 
Countess.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  only  began 
to  live  when  I  met  you — can  you  care  for  me 
— will  you  marry  me?" 

"  Oh !  "  she  whispered,  in  amazement.  She 
arose  slowly — seeming  to  be  drawn  upward 
by  the  strength  of  his  gaze.  She  leaned  one 
hand  against  the  arm  of  her  chair,  and  stood 
looking  at  him  earnestly  for  some  moments, 
without  another  word.  At  last  she  said  slowly : 
"  Last  •  night — after  you  had  gone,  I  thought 
about  you  for  some  time — I  wondered — I 
hoped  that  we  might  some  day  become  good 
friends — as  Dick  and  I  are — but  I  never 
dreamed  that  you  would  want — it  seems  so 
strange  that  you  should  want  me  to  marry 
you.  I — I  cannot  understand  why  you  do." 

"  It  is  not  difficult  for  any  one  else  to  under 
stand,"  he  said.  "  Every  one  loves  you — the 
moment  he  meets  you.  I  loved  you  even  be- 

27 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

fore  I  heard  your  voice.  I  used  to  see  you  on 
the  Piazza  and  the  canals — I  used  to  watch  for 
you — and  my  love  for  you  filled  my  heart  the 
first  time  I  saw  your  face,  I  think.  It  was 
one  evening,  you  were  with  some  friends  tak 
ing  ices  at  Florian's,  where  we  were  together 
the  other  afternoon,  and  since  that  evening, — 
it  was  two  weeks  ago — I  seem  to  live  but  to 
see  you  again — and  after  each  meeting,  I  have 
but  existed  until  I  could  see  you  again.  I 
meant  to  have  waited  longer  before  speaking, 
but  I  can  keep  silent  no  longer,  your  wTonderful 
music  has  so  stirred  me.  I  love  you,  I  love 
you !  When  a  man  loves  as  I  love  you,  he  can 
not  be  patient,  he  must  speak.  What  can  I  say 
to  make  you  know  how  I  love  you  ?  What  can 
I  do  to  win  your  love?  Can  you  give  me  no 
hope?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Sylvia,  sinking  into 
the  chair  again.  "  You  are  very  good  to  love 
me  so — but  I  wish  you  did  not — I  shall  never 
love  any  one.  I  have  never  thought  of  doing  so. 

28 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

I  have  always  laughed  and  jested  at  love.  I 
have  never  wished  to  love.  I  have  wanted  to 
remain  always  free  and  happy,  for  it  seems 
to  me  one  can  be  happy  only  when  free.  I 
don't  like  to  take  life  seriously,  and  love  is 
such  a  serious  thing,  I  have  avoided  thinking 
about  it.  Please  do  not  love  me  as  you  say  you 
do — simply  like  me — let  us  be  good  friends  and 
be  gay  and  enjoy  ourselves.  I  am  sure  that  we 
can  have  the  j oiliest  times  together,  if  you  will 
not  ask  me  to  be — to  be  different  from  what  I 
am."  She  spoke  earnestly  and  eagerly.  She 
liked  the  man  before  her  tremendously;  she 
longed  to  have  him  understand  her  nature ;  she 
wanted  him  to  see  that  while  she  would  hate  to 
hurt  him,  yet  he  must  realise  that  she  could 
not  love  him,  nor  any  one.  Her  nature  was 
wholly  sunny  and  joyous,  she  could  not  imag 
ine  love  coming  to  her — she  was  afraid  of  it — 
to  her  it  seemed  a  deep  and  appalling  thing, 
something  which  must  shadow  the  joyousness 
of  life. 


29 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

"Do  you  not  understand?"  she  asked. 
"Cannot  you  do  as  I  ask?"  While  she  had 
been  speaking,  he  had  seated  himself  in  a  chair 
opposite  her,  and  when  she  had  finished,  he 
said  gravely, 

"  I  will  try  to  do  anything  you  wish.  If  we 
may  be  good  friends,  I  am  content,  I  am  hon 
oured  beyond  what  I  deserve.  If  I  may  have 
your  friendship — are  you  sure  you  are  will 
ing  to  take  me  for  a  friend  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed — indeed  I  am!"  she  said 
eagerly.  "  We  will  sign  our  compact  of  friend 
ship  at  once — here  is  my  hand  on  it."  She 
stretched  her  hand,  dimpled  as  a  child's,  over 
to  him.  He  took  it  reverently  and  pressed  it  to 
his  lips. 

"  '  A  friend  '  may  do  that,  may  he  not?  "  he 
asked  simply. 

:'  Yes — on  such  a  solemn  occasion  as  this — 
to  seal  such  an  important  contract.  And  now," 
she  went  on  gaily,  jumping  up,  "  I  notice  that 
Dick  has  gone  through  the  collection  I  gave 

30 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

him,  and  by  the  silence,  I  fancy  he  refuses  to 
go  over  it  again,  so  let  us  go  out  and  congratu 
late  him." 

"  Yes,  we  must,"  said  Philip,  following  her. 
"  I  am  sure  that  he  plays  well,  as  he  does 
everything  well,  although  I  have  never  heard 
him." 

"  But  you  have  just  heard  him  play  to 
night,"  said  Sylvia. 

"  No,"  replied  Philip,  "  I  fear  that  I  did  not 
hear  a  note." 

"  Oh,  but  don't  let  him  know  that.  You 
must  congratulate  him  just  the  same — you  can 
take  my  word  for  his  splendid  playing.  I 
have  heard  him  many  times,  and  to  my  mind, 
he  plays  beautifully.  Oh,  here  he  comes,  but 
we  will  make  him  go  back  again  to  the  court 
with  us,  for  I  have  ordered  a  little  supper  to 
be  served  there." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  three  were  seated 
about  a  quaint  little  supper  table  in  the  large, 
open  court.  It  had  been  laid  according  to  one 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

of  Sylvia's  original  ideas.  A  little  fountain 
played  in  the  centre  of  the  table;  the  small 
round  basin  was  made  of  Venetian  glass,  with 
an  exquisitely  wrought  border  of  delicate  col 
ours.  On  the  surface  of  the  water  floated 
some  pink,  purple  and  white  water-lilies,  and 
around  the  outside  of  the  basin  there  was  a 
crown  of  maiden-hair  ferns.  This  left  only  a 
narrow  strip  on  which  to  place  the  dishes,  but 
it  was  enough,  for,  as  there  were  only  three 
to  be  served,  little  room  was  needed.  Back  of 
the  table  a  little  way,  there  was  a  circle  of  a 
dozen  tall  candle-bearers  rising  from  the  floor. 
These  were  dark  figures  of  boys,  arrayed  in 
bright  gold  and  silver  costumes,  such  figures 
as  can  be  found  only  in  Venice.  The  large 
candles  gave  a  soft  light,  half  revealing  the 
background  of  tropical  flowers  and  plants. 
The  stillness  was  broken  only  by  the  splashing 
of  the  fountain. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  must  say  what  I  think 
of  it,"  said  Dick,  as  they  seated  themselves. 

32 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

'  This  is  a  feast  fit  for  the  gods !  And  with 
such  a  hostess,  what  can  we  two,  too  unworthy 
mortals,  believe  but  that  we  are  supping  on 
Olympus  ?  And,  may  I  add,  how  fortunate 
that  the  Baroness  and  her  guests  wanted  to  go 
to  the  ball,  and  that  her  niece  did  not — for  had 
it  been  otherwise — this  most  delightful  of 
evenings  would  never  have  been." 

Sylvia  was  radiant.  She  took  keen  pleasure 
in  planning  dainty  little  feasts  like  this  for  the 
enjoyment  of  her  chosen  friends,  an  easy  task 
to  one  of  her  exquisite  taste  and  limitless 
wealth.  The  servants  brought  in  one  dainty 
dish  after  another,  served  in  the  costliest  of 
china  and  cut  glass,  and  the  three  sat  talk 
ing  and  laughing  like  care-free,  happy  chil 
dren. 

"  How  do  you  like  the  flowers  I  selected?  " 
asked  Sylvia. 

"  They  are  beautiful,"  said  Philip. 

"  Water-lilies,  are  they  not  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Yes.     And  do  you  think  they  are  growing, 

33 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

or  have  they  been  cut  and  laid  in  the  foun 
tain?" 

"  I  should  think  from  the  depth  of  the  bowl 
that  they  are  cut,"  said  Dick. 

"Then  of  course  they  are  real?"  asked 
Sylvia,  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eye. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  the  others. 

"  That  shows  how  much  men  know  about 
flowers,"  she  said  laughing,  "  why,  every  one 
knows — every  woman  knows,  I  mean — that 
water-lilies  always  close  at  night." 

"Caught!"  said  Dick. 

"  But  is  it  possible  that  they  are  artificial  ?  " 
asked  Philip. 

"  Quite,"  said  Sylvia,  taking  one  out  of  the 
water.  "  I  have  had  them  some  time.  I 
bought  them  in  Paris  to  use  for  decora 
tions." 

But  even  banquets  on  Olympus  must  have 
an  ending,  and  when  finally  there  was  no  fur 
ther  excuse  for  remaining  longer,  they  reluc 
tantly  turned  from  the  charming  scene,  and 

34 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

strolled  back  into  the  saloon.  Soon  the  chiming 
of  the  cathedral  clock  told  them  that  it  was 
growing  late,  and  that  they  must  say  adieu  to 
their  fair  hostess. 


35 


CHAPTER  IV 


AFTER  they  had  gone,  Sylvia  stood  at  the 
window  looking  out  into  the  dark  night. 
Light-hearted  always,  she  had  felt  unusually 
happy  to-night.  Even  Philip's  acknowledg 
ment  that  he  loved  her,  had  not  overshadowed 
her,  for  she  believed  that  he  had  understood 
and  agreed  with  her  that  it  was  better  to  be 
friends,  and  he  had  apparently  wished  to  prove 
this  during  the  gay  evening  following  his  un 
expected  declaration.  He  had  seemed  as 
cheerful  and  debonnaire  as  Dick  himself,  and 
therefore  Sylvia  looked  happily  forward  to 
many  more  charming  evenings  with  these  two 
friends.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  her  pleasant 
thoughts,  a  strange  shadow  seemed  to  be  creep 
ing  over  her.  She  did  not  understand  it,  and  it 
did  not  take  a  definite  enough  shape  to  make 
her  very  conscious  of  it,  and  yet  she  felt  sad 
dened.  She  was  philosopher  enough  to  know 
that  when  one  has  been  so  joyously  light- 

36 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

hearted,  a  reaction  often  follows,  and  she  al 
most  dreaded  the  morrow. 

."  How  foolish  of  me!  "  she  exclaimed,  turn 
ing  away  from  the  window  and  going  up  to 
her  own  room.  "  Nothing  will  happen  to 
morrow.  Why  should  I  not  be  as  happy  then 
as  now  ?  Why  should  I  not  go  on  being  so — 
for  ever?"  She  hummed  a  little  song  to  re 
vive  her  spirits  and  to  cast  off  the  unwelcome 
shadow  which  seemed  to  surround  her.  She 
fell  asleep  as  quickly  and  easily  as  a  child, 
forgetting  everything  in  the  long,  pleasant 
dreams  which  the  night  brought  with  it. 

But  with  the  morning  came  a  return  of  the 
vague  uneasiness  of  the  previous  evening, 
which  she  seemed  unable  to  banish.  She  was 
up  earlier  than  the  others,  who  slept  late  after 
the  fatigue  of  the  ball.  The  Baroness  ordered 
her  breakfast  served  in  her  own  room,  as  she 
had  headache,  but  she  sent  her  maid  to  re 
quest  Sylvia's  presence  there. 

"  Good-morning,  Aunt  Lucia,"  said  Sylvia, 

37 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

entering  the  spacious  and  luxurious  bed 
room. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  her  aunt,  coldly,  not 
looking  up,  as  she  poured  out  a  cup  of  coffee. 
She  was  in  a  light  dressing-gown  seated  at  a 
table,  and  Sylvia  saw  at  once  that  something 
had  sorely  vexed  her  usually  placid  relative. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  you  have  headache,"  said 
Sylvia,  going  over  to  her  and  kissing  her  light 
ly  on  the  forehead. 

"  It  is  not  my  head  which  bothers  me,"  said 
her  aunt. 

"What  is  it  then,  dear?" 

"  It  is  you,  child.  I  am  extremely  dis 
pleased  that  you  did  not  accompany  us  last 
night.  After  we  arrived  there,  the  Duke 
joined  us,  and  he  seemed  very  much  annoyed 
that  you  had  not  come." 

A  mutinous  look  came  into  Sylvia's  eyes, 
and  unconsciously  her  chin  went  up  in  the  air. 
Her  aunt  was  looking  at  her  now,  and  noticed 
this. 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  I  presume  you  do  not  care  how  he  felt," 
she  exclaimed  angrily. 

"  I  fail  to  see  why  his  feelings  should  be  of 
interest  to  me  ?  "  said  Sylvia  coolly. 

"  Well,  /  see,  and  I  will  tell  you.  I  have 
spoken  to  you  many  times  about  the  Duke. 
When  we  first  met  him  in  Nice,  I  was  at  once 
taken  with  him,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  then 
that  he  was  the  husband  for  you.  I  told  you, 
the  day  after  he  proposed,  that  I  should  like 
you  to  accept  him.  But  I  did  not  urge  it.  I 
have  not  said  much  since — that  is,  not  as  much 
as  I  have  felt — I  have  hoped  you  would  come 
to  your  senses,  and  see  how  foolish  you  are  to 
keep  refusing  him.  How  he  has  smothered  his 
pride,  and  proposed  again  and  again,  in  spite 
of  your  constant  snubbing, — is  a  marvel  to  me. 
I  admire  him  all  the  more  for  it.  I  feared 
that  he  would  give  you  up  when  you  first  re 
fused  him,  but  he  told  me  last  night  that  he 
would  never  rest  until  he  won  your  consent." 

"  '  Never '   is  a  big  word,"   said   Sylvia,   a 

39 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

strange  little  smile  dimpling  the  corners  of  her 
mouth, — a  remark  to  which  her  aunt  paid  no 
heed,  but  continued, 

"  I  have  been  patient  with  your  caprices  as 
long  as  I  can,  I  must  now  speak  my  mind 
freely.  I  wish  you  to  marry  the  Duke.  If 
you  refuse,  then  I  shall  command  you  to  do 
so." 

"  Command  ?  "  said  Sylvia,  an  angry  flash 
coming  into  her  eyes. 

"  And  why  not  ?  Have  I  not  the  right  ? 
Your  father,  at  his  death,  appointed  me  your 
sole  guardian.  Since  then  my  chief  concern 
in  life  has  been  to  find  you  a  suitable  husband. 
You  know  I  love  you  dearly,  and  have  enjoyed 
your  being  with  me;  I  shall  miss  you  greatly 
when  you  are  married,  but  I  must  make  the 
sacrifice.  It  is  only  right  and  fit  that  you  should 
marry.  You  are  nineteen  now,  past  the  age 
when  a  girl  of  your  rank  should  marry.  You 
know  most  girls  in  Italy  are  married  very 
young.  I  was  married  when  I  was  fifteen. 


40 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

The  Duke  wishes  to  renew  his  suit.  He  has 
asked  me  to  plead  for  him." 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  you  feel  that  I 
should  marry,"  said  Sylvia.  "  Are  we  not 
happy  as  we  are  ?  Even  if  I  am  nineteen,  there 
is  plenty  of  time.  Why  need  you  worry?" 
She  had  been  speaking  lightly,  even  smilingly. 
"  Besides,"  she  went  on,  the  smile  dying  out 
of  her  eyes,  and  a  seriousness  taking  its  place. 
"  I  shall  never  marry  until  I  fall  in  love." 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  her  aunt.  "Love 
is  of  little  importance.  How  many  women  are 
there  who  are  in  love  with  their  husbands? 
They  could  be  counted  on  the  fingers  of  one 
hand.  Here  is  the  Duke — a  man  of  great 
rank — he  is  the  one  to  marry — don't  stop  to 
analyse  whether  or  not  you  are  in  love  with 
him.  If  you  let  your  heart  be  your  guide,  you 
will  be  sure  to  fall  in  love  with  a  nobody." 

"What  of  that?"  said  Sylvia.  "Rank  is 
not  the  only  thing  in  the  world.  There  are 
more  real,  noble  gentlemen  among  the  men 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

without  titles,  than  among  those  whose  fathers 
have  given  them  the  rank  of  dukes  and  lords." 

"  I  think  you  must  have  gotten  those  ideas 
in  America,"  said  her  aunt;  "they  are  cer 
tainly  very  absurd." 

"  Dear  Aunt  Lucia,  if  I  should  want  to 
marry  an  American  gentleman,  one  without 
money,  position,  and  with  no  ancestors,  I 
should  do  it.  I  care  absolutely  nothing  for  rank 
or  titles,  in  fact,  many  of  these  noblemen  dis 
gust  me." 

A  dangerous  light  came  into  Sylvia's  eyes — 
but  the  Baroness  did  not  observe  it,  she  was 
too  intent  on  her  own  thoughts.  She  consid 
ered  Sylvia's  words  extremely  foolish.  It  was 
her  firm  determination  to  see  her  niece  married 
into  one  of  the  noblest  families  in  Europe. 

"  Hear  me,"  said  her  aunt  firmly,  "  I  am 
bound  you  shall  marry  the  Duke." 

"  But  I  do  not  love  him,"  said  Sylvia. 
"  You  cannot  seriously  wish  me  to  marry  him, 
when  I  do  not  love  him  ?  " 


42 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  But  indeed  I  can.  He  is  the  catch  of  the 
season.  In  England  you  would  be  welcomed 
into  the  most  exclusive  circles — even  into  those 
of  Royalty  itself." 

"How  can  you  think  of  a  mere  Duke?" 
said  Sylvia.  "  A  Prince  alone  would  be  good 
enough  for  me !  " 

"  You  are  sarcastic,"  said  the  Baroness, 
with  a  sigh,  who,  however,  was  almost  at  the 
end  of  her  patience. 

Sylvia's  mood  had  changed.  An  angry  flush 
had  mounted  to  her  cheeks.  "  I  beg  of  you 
not  to  mention  him  again  as  a  possible  suitor," 
she  said,  stamping  her  small  foot.  "  I  loathe 
the  man — have  you  not  heard  of  his  bad  habits 
and  his  dissipations?" 

Her  aunt  was  angry,  she  scarcely  heeded 
Sylvia's  last  remark.  She  saw  that  the  girl 
was  obstinate,  and  she  was  at  foer  wit's  end 
for  some  argument  which  should  alter  her  de 
termination. 

"  I — I  do  not  know,"  she  replied,  absently. 

43 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

"  I  know,"  said  Sylvia.  "  It  is  known  as  a 
fact  that  he  is  very  fast.  When  at  Nice,  I 
heard  that  he  went  frequently  to  Monte  Carlo 
and  played  heavily,  that  he  does  worse  things 
in  London — he  and  the  other  men  of  his  set— 
their  dinners  together,  which  are  nothing  but 
excuses  for  heavy  drinking.  Oh,  it  is  abhor 
rent!  Such  men  disgust  me." 

"  You  should  not  listen  to  the  idle  gossip," 
said  the  Baroness.  "  Men  of  his  rank  are 
bound  to  cause  jealousy  and  be  slandered." 

"  It  is  not  gossip,"  said  Sylvia,  "  it  is  the 
truth.  Can  you  not  see  it  written  in  his  face? 
Is  he  not  every  inch  a  man  of  the  world,  and 
of  its  worst  type?  " 

"  You  are  prejudiced  beyond  endurance," 
said  the  Baroness.  "  Do  not  abuse  him  any 
more,  I  will  not  listen.  Can  a  man  not  have 
his  pastimes,  without  being  taken  to  task  for 
it?  A  man  of  his  rank  is  at  liberty  to  do  al 
most  anything,  and  be  forgiven.  You  are  too 
particular — we  are  all  human." 

44 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Human !  "  retorted  Sylvia,  "  such  men  are 
not  human,  they  are  beasts !  " 

"  Hush !  "  cried  her  aunt,  her  face  as  white 
with  anger  as  Sylvia's  own.  "  The  Duke  is  as 
good  as  other  men,  and  he  is  of  such  rank, 
that  any  girl  should  be  proud  to  become  his 
wife." 

"  I  cannot  understand,"  said  Sylvia,  looking 
at  her  aunt  and  softening  a  little — for  she  loved 
her,  in  spite  of  her  worldliness.  "  I  cannot 
possibly  understand  why  you  care  so  much  for 
rank.  I  know  you  love  me — and  yet  you  wish 
me  to  marry  a  bad  man — against  my  will — 
just  to  become  a  Duchess." 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  the  Baroness,  at  last  irri 
tated  beyond  the  power  of  endurance.  "  I  do 
wish  it,  and  what  is  more — if  you  do  not  obey 
me — I  will  no  longer  be  your  guardian.  If 
you  refuse  to  marry  the  Duke,  I  shall  give  you 
up  as  hopelessly  obstinate — I  shall  no  longer 
have  anything  to  do  with  you." 

Sylvia  raised  herself  to  the  full  limit  of  her 

45 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

girlish  height,  standing  before  her  aunt,  at  last 
thoroughly  enraged.  Her  eyes  flashed  fire. 

"  Go  to  your  room,"  said  the  Baroness.  "  If 
you  decide  to  obey  me,  let  me  know,  otherwise, 
— do  not  come  near  me." 

Sylvia  turned  and  left  the  room  without  a 
word.  She  went  directly  to  her  own  room 
and  shut  the  door.  She  walked  back  and  forth 
with  clenched  hands — her  brain  seemed  to  be 
on  fire.  Never  in  her  whole  life  had  she  been 
stirred  with  such  emotion.  Back  and  forth, 
back  and  forth  she  went — for  a  long  time — 
until  at  last  Nature  claimed  its  own,  and  fa 
tigue  overpowered  her.  She  threw  herself  on 
the  bed  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  which 
finally  subsided  into  sleep.  She  lay  for  several 
hours  in  a  deep,  dreamless  slumber.  When 
she  awoke,  she  gave  a  little  shudder,  wonder 
ing  in  a  dazed  way,  what  had  happened — then 
it  all  came  back  to  her.  But  the  grief  had 
passed,  and  what  remained  was  an  outward 
calm,  but  a  deep,  inward  determination  never 

46 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

to    yield.      Her    aunt's    arguments    had    but 
strengthened  her  detestation  of  the  Duke. 

Her  brain  worked  quickly.  She  stood  look 
ing  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror  for  a  few 
moments,  resolving  the  question  in  her  mind 
of  what  she  should  do.  It  did  not  take  her 
long  to  form  a  plan.  She  sat  at  her  little  desk 
and  wrote  a  note,  directing  it  to  Dick.  Then 
ringing  for  her  maid,  she  told  her  to  have  it 
sent  at  once.  She  hastily  made  preparations 
to  go  out,  changing  her  morning  negligee  for 
a  street  costume.  She  then  opened  her  door 
and  passed  through  the  hall  down  the  stairs, 
fortunately  meeting  no  one.  She  descended  to 
a  gondola  and  ordered  her  gondoliers  to  take 
her  to  the  English  gardens. 


47 


CHAPTER  V. 


FORTUNATELY  Dick  was  at  home.  He  was 
spending  his  vacation  in  Venice,  enjoying  a 
respite  from  his  architectural  work  in  Rome. 
He  had  worked  steadily  at  his  profession  for 
five  years  in  Italy,  and  had  at  last  been  com 
pelled  to  take  a  few  weeks  of  rest.  Sylvia's 
note  found  him  just  as  he  was  setting  out  for 
an  afternoon  stroll,  but  this  he  immediately 
abandoned,  upon  reading  her  message.  It  was 
very  brief,  but  he  was  startled  at  its  import 
ance.  It  ran : 

"If  you  can,  meet  me  in  the  English 
Gardens  at  once.  I  am  going  directly  there.  I 
want  to  see  you  about  something.  I  cannot 
ask  you  to  come  to  the  house,  and  will  ex 
plain  why  when  I  see  you. 

SYLVIA.  " 

He  went  quickly  down  and  jumped  into  a 
48 


An  AMERICAN   COUNTESS 


gondola  and  reached  the  gardens  but  a  very 
few  moments  after  Sylvia. 

She  was  seated  on  a  bench  at  the  end  of  a 
certain  pretty  little  path,  where  she  and  Dick 
had  sometimes  walked  together.  She  felt 
sure  that  he  would  remember  this  place,  and 
look  for  her  here,  which  he  did.  As  he  turned 
into  the  path  and  caught  sight  of  her,  he  quick 
ened  his  steps.  He  noticed  that  she  was 
rather  pale.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  a 
smile  of  welcome,  but  there  were  tears  in  her 
eyes.  He  sat  beside  her,  waiting  for  her  to 
speak. 

"  Of  course  you  must  know,"  she  said, 
"  that  something  very  unusual  has  happened  to 
make  me  ask  you  to  meet  me  here  alone,  and 
not  at  the  palace.  I  wanted  to  see  you  at  once, 
for  I  want  to  ask  you  to  tell  me  if  you  think 
I  am  doing  right.  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  go  back  to  America — at  once — but  I  value 
your  opinion,  and  I  did  not  want  to  go  with 
out  telling  you,  and  feeling  that  you  approve 

49 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

of  this  step.  We  have  been  such  very  good 
friends,  Dick,  I  did  not  want  to  leave  without 
saying  good-bye  to  you." 

Dick  was  dumfounded.  "  You  don't  mean 
that  you  are  going  for  long — to  stay?  "  he  ex 
claimed. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  I  must.  My 
aunt  and  I  had  a  difference  of  opinion.  It 
was  about  the  Duke;  she  wishes  me  to  marry 
him.  If  it  were  any  other  man — some  man  I 
could  at  least  respect — I  might  do  it,  for  I  love 
Aunt  Lucia,  and  would  like  to  please  her,  but 
you  know,  even  better  than  I,  about  the  Duke. 
I  cannot,  and  will  not,  marry  such  a  man,  even 
to  please  my  aunt.  Blinded  by  the  glamour 
of  his  title,  she  seems  to  think  nothing  of  his 
morals.  Title!  Heavens,  how  I  hate  that 
word !  " 

"  I  do  not  blame  you  in  the  least,"  said  Dick. 
"  But  surely  you  need  not  go  away  to  America 
to  avoid  marrying  him  ?  " 

"  I  must,  because  my  aunt  said  that  unless  I 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

agreed  to  marry  him,  not  to  come  near  her,  nor 
speak  to  her  again.  And  so  I  shall  go  to  Cali 
fornia.  I  am  sure  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Gordon, 
will  be  willing  to  take  me  again.  I  know  that 
she  is  fond  of  me,  and  I  am  fond  of  her.  She 
felt  bad  when  my  father  insisted  upon  my 
joining  him  in  Nice  after  my  mother's 
death." 

"  And  so  you  are  to  live  in  America  now." 
A  deep  shade  of  melancholy  had  come  over 
him.  What  would  Venice  be — what  would 
Italy  be — what  would  life  itself  be — now — 
without  this  beautiful  girl — who  was  dearer 
to  him  than  he  had  realised? 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  be  happy  there,"  he 
said  at  last.  "  Do  you  think  you  shall  enjoy 
yourself  as  much  as  you  have  at  Nice?  " 

"  No,  I  am  sure  I  shall  not,"  said  Sylvia, 
with  a  sigh.  "  There  is  no  place  like  Nice  to 
me,  but  I  cannot  live  there  without  my  aunt.  I 
suppose  I  am  too  young  to  live  without  some 
relative  being  with  me." 

51 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  Are  you  going  to  cross  alone?  It  is  a  long 
journey." 

"  I  shall  take  one  of  my  maids,  Marie,  with 
me.  She  is  forty  and  a  devoted  soul.  She  is 
here  in  Venice.  We  shall  set  out  this  afternoon. 
I  must  go  to  Nice  first  to  get  some  of  my 
things.  I  think  that  we  shall  get  a  courier 
there  to  accompany  us,  it  will  be  so  much  eas 
ier.  I  shall  leave  a  note  for  my  aunt,  saying 
that  I  have  gone,  and  that  my  villa  at  Nice  will 
be  left  in  care  of  the  housekeeper  and  garden 
ers,  and  that  she  is  welcome  to  use  it  as  much 
as  she  likes.  I  think  she  will  want  to,  for  she 
is  fond  of  Nice,  and  does  not  like  Venice  very 
well.  But  tell  me  that  you  think  I  am  doing 
the  best  thing,  there  is  nothing  else  I  could 
do,  is  there?  Surely  you  would  not  advise  me 
to  marry  the  Duke?  " 

"  No,  no,  a  thousand  times  no,"  said  Dick. 

'  That    would    be    horrible.     And,    knowing 

your  aunt  as  I  do,  I  am  sorrowfully  sure  it 

would  be   useless   to   try   to   persuade  her   to 

52 


change  her  determination  at  present,  at  any 
rate.  For,  with  all  due  respect  to  that  worthy 
relative  of  yours,.  Sylvia,  she  is  a  veritable 
granite  monument  of  obstinacy.  But,  Sylvia, 
why  will  you  not  marry  some  one  else?  " 

"  Some  one  else  ?  Why.  who,  for  in- 
slance?  " 

"  There  is  Lord  Raleigh,  my  cousin,  he  is 
a  very  fine  fellow,  and  any  one  can  see  that  he 
is  eating  his  heart  out  for  you.  Or,  there  is 
the  Roman  Count,  he  is  a  splendid  fellow,  an 
exception,  among  Italian  men — begging  your 
pardon.  Or  there  is  Mr.  Stanford,  the  Eng 
lishman.  I  know  him  very  well.  These  three 
are  the  only  ones  among  your  admirers  that  I 
can  really  recommend — as  the  other  men  are 
not  to  be  thought  of,  I  hope.  And,  too,  there 
is  Philip;  he,  poor  chap,  is  so  obviously  in  love, 
that  we  might  as  well  put  him  promptly  in  the 
list." 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Monroe,"  said  Sylvia.  "  I  am 
sorry  that  he  should  care.  But  surely  he  will 

53 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

soon  get  over  it.  He  will  find  that  it  was  a 
mistake." 

"  Then,  if  Philip,  or  any  of  the  others  will 
not  do,  why  not  take  me?  "  said  Dick. 

"You?"  said  Sylvia,  laughing.  "Do  you 
know,  I  should  rather  take  you  than  any  of 
them  ?  "  She  was  still  laughing,  but  he  was 
not. 

"  Sylvia,  will  you  ever  be  serious — if  / 
will?  "  he  asked,  looking  at  her.  There  was  a 
queer  expression  in  his  eyes — she  noticed  it — 
and  it  startled  her. 

"  That  would  be  impossible,  and  so  unnat 
ural  for  us  both,"  she  answered  lightly.  "  No, 
I  fear  none  of  those  men,  if  they  really  do 
want  me,  can  have  me,  for  I  do  not  intend  to 
marry.  And  now,  good-bye,  dear  friend."  she 
said,  rising,  and  giving  him  her  little  gloved 
hand.  "  I  leave  at  four,  and  it  is  to  be  a  secret 
until  I  reach  Nice  and  make  my  arrangements. 
I  cannot  ask  you  to  come  to  see  me  off,  as  I 
must  slip  away  as  quietly  as  possible." 

54 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  And  so  this  is  good-bye?  "  said  Dick.  "  I 
fear  it  is  for  ever  so  much  longer  than  I  dare 
to  think  for,  as  I  have  been  kept  here  in  Italy 
for  the  last  five  years,  I  seem  likely  to  stay  here 
the  rest  of  my  life.  Vacations  come  seldom 
with  me,  and  then  they  are  short,  so  there  is  no 
hope  of  my  going  over  to  see  you." 

"  I  am  so  very,  very  sorry,"  said  Sylvia, 
"  I  hate  good-byes.  We  have  had  such  good 
times  together — I  shall  miss  you  so  much,  my 
dear,  dear  friend." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dick  simply.  "  You 
know  how  I  shall  feel."  His  eyes  betrayed 
more  than  his  words,  but  she  did  not  see  them, 
for  she  was  looking  toward  the  water. 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  pass  entirely  out 
of  my  life?  "  said  Dick.  "  I  may  write  to  you, 
may  I  not,  and  you  will  let  me  hear  from 
you?" 

"  Why,  yes,  surely,"  said  Sylvia. 

They  went  toward  the  water's  edge.  He 
helped  her  into  her  gondola,  and  the  gondoliers 

55 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

propelled  the  little  craft  quickly  away,  leaving 
him  standing  there,  watching  her  until  the 
boat  disappeared  from  sight. 


It  was  several  hours  later.  Dick  was  sitting 
on  a  small  balcony  leading  from  his  room  at 
the  hotel,  smoking  an  after-dinner  cigar,  when 
Philip  knocked  on  his  door.  He  had  seen  him 
enter  the  hotel,  and  called  "  Come  out  here," 
and  Philip  joined  him. 

"  I  thought  I  would  come  to  see  what  you 
were  doing  with  yourself  to-night,"  said 
Philip. 

"  I  know  not,"  he  said : 

"  The  Night  has  a  thousand  eyes 

The  Day  but  one — 

Yet  the  Light  of  the  whole  World  dies 

With  the  setting  Sun." 

Dick  motioned  to  a  chair. 
"Why  do  you  quote  those   lines?"   asked 
Philip. 

56 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 


"  Now  for  the  translation,"  said  Dick. 
"  The  Night,  we  will  say,  is  the  World — with 
its  thousand  lights.  Venice  is  the  Day — with 
its  Sun,  and  '  the  Light  of  the  whole  World 
dies '  when  that  Sun  is  gone.  Do  you  catch 
my  meaning?  " 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  that  the  Countess  is 
the  'Light  of  the  World/"  said  Philip. 
"  That  is  a  beautiful  idea.  But  I  do  not  un 
derstand  the  rest." 

Dick  looked  at  him  pityingly. 

"  Poor  chap !  "  he  murmured.  "  Then  listen 
— the  fact  is — that  the  '  Light  of  Venice  '  has 
gone — gone  to  America — for  an  indefinite 
period.  Now  are  we  not  left  in  darkness  ?  " 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Philip,  starting  to  his 
feet,  "  Sylvia  gone?  " 


57 


CHAPTER  VI. 


EDITH  LAWRENCE  stood  before  the  long 
cheval  glass  in  her  room.  It  was  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  she  had  dined,  and  had  come  up 
to  her  room  again  to  take  a  last,  critical  glance 
at  her  toilette,  before  going  to  the  drawing- 
room.  She  wanted  to  be  sure  that  she  looked 
her  best.  As  she  caught  sight  of  her  reflection 
in  the  mirror,  she  smiled  exultantly. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  shall  do.  This  gown  is 
the  most  becoming  one  I  have  had  for  some 
time." 

She  had  reason  to  be  proud  of  her  looks  and 
the  gown,  for  it  suited  her  type  of  beauty  to 
perfection.  It  was  made  of  a  filmy,  corn- 
coloured  silk  gauze,  embroidered  in  scarlet 
poppies,  made  over  a  silk  of  a  deeper  shade  of 
corn-colour.  It  was  cut  low  in  the  neck,  and 
the  sash  was  broad  and  of  scarlet  silk  edged 
with  heavy  fringe.  It  was  a  striking  gown, 
but  the  colours  were  so  arranged  that  they  har- 

58 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

monised  and  gave  a  rich,  artistic  effect.  Her 
hair  was  very  dark  and  heavy,  caught  up 
loosely  in  a  large  coil  on  the  top  of  her  head, 
with  a  red  rose  tucked  into  the  coil.  Her  eyes 
were  dark  and  languishing,  her  complexion 
also  dark,  and  her  figure  was  tall  and  grace 
ful.  But  her  greatest  charm  lay  in  her  man 
ner,  it  was  indescribable,  and  wholly  fascinat 
ing,  that  is,  fascinating  to  men,  to  women  she 
paid  no  attention,  and  therefore  she  had  no 
friends  among  her  own  sex.  Her  beauty, 
wealth,  and  popularity  with  men  caused  much 
jealousy  among  her  would-be  rivals,  but  she 
feared  no  rivals,  she  would  admit  of  having 
none  in  the  whole  of  New  York,  and  this  was 
probably  true,  as  she  had  been  the  reigning 
belle  in  society  for  the  last  three  years. 

But  this  evening  she  was  not  thinking  of  her 
social  triumphs,  she  was  thinking  of  a  man, 
the  one  to  whom  she  was  engaged,  Eric  Field 
ing. 

"  His  steamer  arrived   this   morning,"    she 

59 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

said,  talking  to  herself,  "  and  he  will  be  here 
this  evening.  He  will  be  here  in  just  half  an 
hour.  He  always  arrives  just  at  eight-thirty, 
when  he  comes  merely  for  a  call,  never  earlier, 
and  never  later.  What  a  strange  man  he  is! 
He  has  so  many  little  ways  that  are  entirely  his 
own,  that  other  men  would  never  think  of. 
That  is  one  reason  why  I  love  him,  his  individ 
uality  is  so  strong.  That  is  one  reason,  and 
another  is — oh,  there  are  hundreds  of  reasons 
why  I  love  him,  I  only  wish  I  could  think  of 
one  which  would  make  me  dislike  him :  my  lov 
ing  him  is  the  curse  of  my  existence,  for  it 
hurts  my  pride  when  I  know  that  he  does  not 
love  me.  And  yet,  it  is  only  my  love  that 
made  him  mine.  That  night,  last  autumn, 
at  the  De  Lancey's  ball,  when  he  overheard 
my  confession  to  Kitty,  when  I  sat  in  a  corner 
with  her,  crying  like  a  schoolgirl,  and  then 
told  her  why,  that  I  was  crazy  over  Eric,  and 
that  I  knew  he  was  absolutely  indifferent  to  me. 
Kitty  was  trying  to  comfort  me,  when  we  dis- 

60 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

covered  that  he  had  been  sitting  alone  on  the 
other  side  of  the  palms,  and  had  overheard 
everything.  Oh,  the  shame  of  that  moment! 
— it  makes  me  hot  with  mortification  to  think 
of  it  even  now.  I  went  directly  home  and 
vowed  I  would  never  go  anywhere  again,  so 
that  I  need  never  meet  him.  And  then  the 
very  next  evening  he  came.  It  was  only  the 
third  time  he  had  ever  paid  me  a  visit,  the 
other  two  had  been  mere  social  duties,  but  that 
evening  I  knew  he  must  have  come  to  see  me, 
for  some  reason,  and  I  was  so  excited  that  I 
was  dizzy.  At  first  I  thought  I  would  not  go 
down  to  see  him,  then  I  was  overpowered 
with  the  desire  to  go,  and  went — and  that  was 
the  beginning  of  my  downfall,  the  downfall  to 
my  pride,  I  mean.  He  was  dear,  no  one  could 
have  been  more  kind  and  thoughtful;  he  told 
me  how  he  had  been  an  unintentional  listener, 
and  on  discovering  that  he  was  the  subject  of 
our  conversation,  he  wanted  to  come  and  ask 
me  to  marry  him,  if  I  really  loved  him.  It 

61 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

was  an  honourable  thing  to  do — I  know  that — 
few  men  would  do  it,  when  they  did  not  love 
the  girl,  and  of  course  I  knew  he  did  not  love 
me — a  girl  can  always  tell — nor  did  he  pretend 
it,  and  I  knew  I  ought  not  to  take  advantage  of 
his  offer,  but  I  was  so  fond  of  him,  it  was  so 
tempting,  I  could  not  resist  the  opportunity  of 
trying  to  win  his  love.  And  all  this  last  win 
ter,  how  good  he  has  been,  he  has  done  every 
thing  a  man  could  for  a  girl.  When  he  said 
he  would  like  to  go  abroad  for  a  few  weeks,  if 
I  did  not  mind,  of  course  I  told  him  to  go,  and 
while  he  has  been  gone,  I  have  been  thinking, 
thinking,  thinking!  I  know  he  went  because 
he  wanted  a  little  rest  from  this  farce  he  has 
been  playing,  I  know  it  is  a  farce,  and  all  for 
my  sake,  yet  I  cannot  give  him  up.  And  he  has 
never  shown  that  he  has  wanted  me  to  give 
him  up.  Perhaps  in  time  he  will  learn  to  love 
me!  Ah — "  She  had  been  sitting  looking, 
and  talking  to  herself,  as  if  her  reflection  in  the 
mirror  were  another  person,  and  that  it  was  a 

62 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

relief  to  pour  it  all  out,  to  speak  in  words  what 
was  in  her  heart,  what  had  been  there  for  the 
last  six  months. 

"  And  now,"  she  said,  stepping  very  near  to 
the  glass,  so  that  she  almost  touched  her  re 
flection,  "  perhaps  his  trip  has  taught  him  that. 
Why  should  he  not?  Am  I  not  attractive? 
There  are  men,  I  know,  and  not  a  few,  who 
think  me  beautiful,  and  who  would  throw 
themselves  at  my  feet,  if  I  were  not  engaged  to 
Eric,  and  surely  he  can  think  as  these  men. 
He  shall  love  me !  " 

She  looked  so  superb  as  she  stood  there,  her 
face  lighted  with  eager  hope  and  an  unusual 
excitement,  which  enhanced  her  beauty,  that 
the  fulfilment  of  her  words  seemed  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


"  I  SUPPOSE/'  said  Eric's  sister,  the  next 
morning  at  breakfast,  "  now  that  you  have  just 
returned  from  abroad,  you  will  not  care  to  take 
another  long  journey?" 

Eric  looked  across  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Why,  no.     Why  should  I  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  hoping  that  you  might  want  to 
go  out  to  Southern  California.  I  would  like 
to  have  some  one  go  for  me  on  a  matter  of 
business,  and  you  are  just  the  man;  you  have 
nothing  to  do  to  keep  you  at  home.  I  should 
think  you  would  enjoy  a  visit  to  California." 

Eric  hesitated  before  replying.  He  would 
like  to  oblige  his  sister,  and  in  fact  would  not 
object  to  going,  he  was  always  fond  of  travel 
and  had  never  seen  Southern  California,  and 
yet  he  felt  that  if  he  went  now,  even  for 
only  a  few  weeks,  Edith  might  think  it  odd. 
His  sister  read  his  thoughts,  although  she  did 
not  read  his  willingness  to  go,  she  supposed 

64 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

that  he  hesitated  because  he  could  not  bear  to 
tear  himself  away  again  so  soon. 

"  If  I  put  off  this  business  for  a  couple  of 
months,  would  you  go  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course,"  replied  Eric,  "  I 
would  go  at  once,  if  it  were  not  that " 

"  Oh,  I  understand,"  said  Miss  Fielding, 
'*  and  two  months  hence  will  do  just  as  well. 
I  will  tell  you  what  it  is  I  want.  If  you 
remember,  I  bought  a  ranch  out  there  last 
autumn,  and  now  I  think  I  would  like  to  sell  it, 
although  I  am  not  quite  sure." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Eric.  "  I  confess  I 
could  not  understand  at  the  time,  why  you 
wanted  to  make  an  investment  in  such  an  out- 
of-the-way  place." 

"  It  was  not  an  investment.  I  do  not  care 
about  its  bringing  me  in  money,  I  merely  had 
the  idea  that  I  would  like  to  go  out  there  to 
live." 

"  But  why  choose  such  a  God-forsaken  spot, 
at  least  a  place  where  you  know  no  one  ?  " 

65 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  Well,  I  bought  it  before  you  were  en 
gaged.  I  had  not  calculated  upon  your  falling 
in  love,  and  I  fancied  that  you  might  be  per 
suaded  to  go  out  with  me.  We  could  have 
managed  it  very  well  out  there,  don't  you  think 
so?  You  are  a  good  companion  to  live  with, 
I  could  ask  no  better,  even  for  an  old  woman 
like  myself.  Think  of  it,  Eric,  I  am  forty- 
six.  Just  twenty  years  older  than  you  are. 
That  is  pretty  old." 

"  Indeed  it  is  not,"  said  Eric.  "  Wait  until 
you  are  seventy  or  eighty  before  you  think  of 
getting  old.  Age  is  merely  a  matter  of  one's 
feelings ;  one  can  seem  almost  any  age  one 
feels,  and  I  consider  you  still  young,  you  are 
just  at  the  prime  of  your  life  now." 

"  I  hope  you  are  right,"  said  Miss  Fielding, 
"  but  I  find  each  winter  that  this  severe  cold 
gets  on  my  nerves,  and  it  is  not  enough  to 
go  away  for  a  few  months.  I  want  a  perma 
nent  home  in  some  place  with  a  warm  climate 
all  the  year  around.  But  I  think  that  I  shall 

66 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

give  up  the  idea  of  California.  It  would  cer 
tainly  be  lonely  out  there  without  you.  I 
think  I  shall  go  abroad  and  settle  somewhere 
on  the  Riviera.  In  fact,  I  have  almost  made 
up  my  mind  to  start  next  month." 

Miss  Fielding  was  Eric's  only  relative. 
Their  mother  had  died  when  Eric  had  been 
but  a  schoolboy,  their  father  had  died  just 
after  Eric's  graduation  from  college,  leaving 
the  house  on  Fifth  Avenue  to  him,  and  the 
large  fortune  divided  between  the  two.  They 
had  continued  to  live  here  together,  each  de 
voted  to  the  other,  and  yet  free  to  travel  and 
make  their  own  plans  as  they  chose. 

About  six  o'clock  of  that  same  day,  Edith 
stood  again  in  her  dressing-room,  adding  the 
finishing  touches  to  her  toilette,  but  now  she 
did  not  look  at  herself  with  gratification,  for 
she  was  in  a  dejected  mood.  She  had  donned 
a  black  dress,  high  in  the  neck,  made  in  the 
simplest  style,  and  yet  of  rich  material,  having 
pinned  at  her  belt  the  bunch  of  violets  which 

67 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

Eric  had  sent  her.  She  had  on  no  jewelry  or 
ornaments  of  any  kind  except  her  engagement 
ring.  "  There,  I  have  gowned  myself  to-night 
in  just  the  way  my  mood  makes  me  feel.  Last 
night  was  such  a  disappointment.  I  looked 
my  very  best,  my  gown  was  a  dream,  and  yet 
what  good  did  it  do  me?  He  did  not  even 
notice  it,  my  beauty  had  no  effect  on  him,  he 
was  as  cold  and  indifferent  as  ever.  His  trip, 
the  trip  I  thought  might  change  him,  what  has 
it  done?  Nothing!  Oh,  I  hate  myself!  If 
he  were  a  graven  image,  I  could  move  him  as 
easily." 

She  glanced  at  her  reflection  with  a  frown, 
then  hastily  turned  to  go. 

"  I  will  play  a  little  before  he  comes,  to 
shake  off  this  discouraged  feeling,"  she  said 
to  herself  as  she  descended  the  stairs.  Her 
mother  and  father  had  gone  out  that  evening 
to  a  dinner  party,  so  she  and  Eric  were  to  dine 
alone,  but  she  did  not  expect  him  until  seven, 
and  as  it  was  now  only  six-thirty,  she  was 

68 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

very  much  surprised,  as  she  entered  the  draw 
ing-room,  to  see  him  sitting  before  the  grate 
fire,  apparently  having  been  there  some  few 
moments.  It  was  such  an  unheard-of  thing 
for  him  to  be  either  early  or  late  in  keeping  an 
engagement,  her  astonishment  was  so  great, 
that  she  stood  a  moment  in  silence,  watching 
him.  He  was  leaning  forward  in  his  chair, 
looking  into  the  coals  of  the  fire,  as  if  thinking 
deeply.  Edith's  spirits  brightened. 

"What  if,  after  all,  he  does  care?"  she 
whispered  to  herself.  "  Perhaps  he  did  dis 
cover  last  night  that  he  does  love  me,  and  it 
would  have  been  so  unnatural  for  him  to  have 
shown  it  at  once — but  now — he  is  thinking — 
ah " 

She  stole  softly  over  toward  him,  a  smile 
on  her  lips. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts  ?  "  she  said 
joyfully,  touching  him  lightly  on  the  shoulder. 

He  looked  up,  and  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  good  evening,"  he  said,   taking  her 

69 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

hand,  "  I  knew  that  I  was  early,  and  so  I  told 
James  not  to  announce  me." 

"But  my  penny?"  she  persisted,  as  they 
seated  themselves  in  front  of  the  fire,  for, 
though  it  was  April,  it  was  still  a  bit  chilly  at 
night,  and  an  open  fire  was  welcome. 

"What  penny?"  he  asked,  having  for 
gotten  her  remark. 

"  The  penny  I  offered  you  for  your  thoughts 
as  I  came  in." 

He  laughed  and  replied,  "  They  really  were 
not  worth  a  penny." 

"  But  /  wish  to  be  the  judge  of  that.  Surely 
if  I  want  to  buy,  you  are  willing  to  sell?" 

He  remembered  perfectly  of  what  he  had 
been  thinking.  He  had  forgotten  his  sur 
roundings,  and  had  drifted  back,  in  imagina 
tion,  to  a  certain  moonlit  evening  in  Venice, 
just  before  he  sailed.  It  had  seemed  strange 
and  unaccountable  to  him,  but  that  day  and 
evening  had  returned  to  his  thoughts  often, 
just  as  his  friend  Philip  had  prophesied, 


70 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

though  he  was  unwilling  that  this  should  be  so. 
But  who  in  this  world  is  a  controller  of  even 
his  thoughts? 

Eric  was  silent  a  moment,  wondering  how 
he  could  answer  Edith's  question,  without  tell 
ing  her  his  thoughts. 

"  I  really  insist,"  said  Edith,  still  believing 
they  were  of  herself.  She  wanted  to  hear  this 
more  than  anything  in  the  world,  and  she 
looked  across  at  him  eagerly. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  be  quite  frank  ? " 
asked  Eric. 

"  Yes,  surely." 

"  Well,  I  was  thinking  of  Venice,  a  certain 
evening,  just  before  I  sailed." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Edith,  scarcely  able  to  conceal 
her  chagrin.  But  her  curiosity  was  aroused, 
his  attitude  had  been  so  earnest,  she  felt  intui 
tively  that  the  subject  of  his  thoughts  was 
absorbing. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  she  continued.  "  Why 
did  you  think  of  that  evening?  " 

71 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

"  I  was  wondering  myself  why  I  should," 
he  explained. 

"And  who — who  was  there?" 

"  Philip  Monroe,  Leigh  Dunlop  and  I." 

"And  was  that  all?"  Edith  looked  up  at 
him,  she  seemed  very  persistent,  and  he  knew 
that  the  two  men  had  not  been  the  real  subject 
of  his  thoughts. 

"  Those  are  all  whom  I  was  with.  And  yet 
there  was  some  one  whom  we  were  all  watch 
ing — a  girl — but  she  was  not  with  us — she  was 
in  a  gondola,  passing  on  the  canal  below." 

"  A  girl  ?  "  murmured  Edith.  "  Was  she— 
someone  you  knew  ?  " 

"  Leigh  had  met  her,  but  Philip  and  I  had 
only  seen  her  there  in  Venice." 

"  Was  she — she  must  have  been  beautiful — 
to  have  excited  so  much  admiration  ?  " 

Eric  had  forgotten  for  the  moment,  he  was 
back  again  in  Venice. 

"  She  was  the  most "  but  he  started  sud 
denly,  remembering,  exclaiming  to  himself, 

72 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  What  am  I  saying?  "  then  aloud,  "  Yes,  she 
was  really  very  pretty." 

"  Pretty !  "  said  Edith,  rising  hastily,  "  you 
were  not  going  to  say  pretty." 

She  was  terribly  disappointed,  but  she  pulled 
herself  together,  for  above  all,  she  was  deter 
mined  that  Eric  should  not  know  of  her  disap 
pointment,  or  think  her  jealous.  She  laughed 
lightly,  and  went  over  to  the  piano. 

"  I  have  learned  some  new  songs  while  you 
have  been  gone,  shall  I  sing  some  of  them  to 
you?" 

After  she  had  sung  a  few  moments,  dinner 
was  announced. 

During  dinner,  Edith  was  her  gayest  and 
most  brilliant  self.  After  all,  Eric  was  hers — 
that  girl  was  away  off  in  Venice,  he  did  not 
even  know  her,  why  should  she  be  jealous  of 
her,  or  anyone?  But  when  dinner  was  over, 
and  they  were  again  in  the  drawing-room, 
Edith's  gay  spirits  seemed  to  have  left  her 
abruptly,  as  all  gaiety  must  do  which  is  forced. 

73 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

and  does  not  spring  from  the  heart.  Edith  was 
looking  at  Eric,  and  noticing  his  hair  as  the 
light  fell  on  it  from  a  tall  lamp  which  stood  on 
a  table  back  of  him.  His  hair  was  light  brown 
and  very  heavy,  but  the  lamplight  falling  on  it 
made  it  seem  almost  golden.  Edith  was 
fancying  what  a  delight  it  would  be  if  she 
could  gently  run  her  fingers  through  it,  strok 
ing  it  tenderly,  as  other  women  were  allowed 
to  do  to  the  men  they  loved.  And  his  eyes — 
those  eyes  that  fascinated  her  so.  She  forgot 
herself  for  a  moment,  and  came  over  to  him, 
laying  her  hand  caressingly  on  his  hair,  and 
looking  down  at  him. 

"  Oh,  Eric,"  she  said,  "  when  we  are  mar 
ried,  will  you  take  me  to  Italy?  To  Venice? 
I  have  always  thought  it  the  most  beautiful 
city — but  it  would  be  Heaven  itself  to  go  there 
with  you — I  should  be  happy  anywhere  with 
you — if  you  but  loved  me."  Then  she  drew 
her  hand  away  quickly,  and  turned  from  him. 

"  I  forgot,"  she  said,  her  voice  catching  in 


74 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

a  little  sob.  "  I  forgot  for  a  moment  that  you 
are  determined  not  to  care  for  me.  Oh,  why 
are  you  this  way  ?  "  she  cried,  turning  toward 
him.  "  Why  can  you  not  love  me?  Am  I  so 
ugly — am  I  so  disagreeable — am  I  so  lacking 
in  all  that  charms  a  man — am  I  a  devil — that 
you  scorn  me  so?  " 

Eric  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Edith !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  how  can  you  ask 
that?" 

"  But  it  is  the  same  thing,"  she  replied. 
"  You  are  as  indifferent  and  cold  as  if  I  were 
a  piece  of  furniture,  instead  of  a  girl — real 
flesh  and  blood — a  girl  who  adores  you,  and  to 
whom  you  are  engaged.  Why  will  you  not 
love  me?  " 

"  Edith,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  cannot  tell.  I 
admire  you  greatly,  you  are  very  clever  and 
beautiful.  I  think  more  of  you  than 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  interrupting  him  with  a 
gesture  of  disdain.  "  You  think  a  good  deal 
of  me!  Of  course  you  think  of  me.  We  are 

75 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

engaged,  are  you  not  obliged  to  think  of  me? 
You  admire  me !  But  what  does  a  woman  care 
for  admiration,  when  she  wants  love  ?  Love  is 
what  I  want,  and  I  know  you  do  not  love  me 
the  very  least  bit  in  the  world." 

"  I  have  always  been  fond  of  you,  Edith," 
he  said,  "  but  I  could  not  give  more.  I  have 
always  been  very  frank  with  you — a  man  can 
not  pretend  to  love.  I  wish  with  all  my  heart 
that  I  did  love  you.  I  cannot  understand  why 
I  do  not,  you  are  vastly  worthy  of  it.  But  it 
has  not  come  yet.  Love  is  a  thing  we  cannot 
control,  it  comes — or  it  stays  away  without 
our  being  able  to  help  it  in  the  least.  I  have 
often  prayed  that  it  might  come,  for  if  you 
love  me,  I  want  to  love  you,  I  want  to  give 
you  more  than  it  has  been  possible  to  give  as 
yet,  I  want  to  give  you  all  that  a  man  should 
give  the  girl  he  is  to  marry.  I  am  only  deeply 
grieved  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  it  as 
yet." 

His  words  softened  her  feelings,   for  now 

76 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

she  understood,  which  she  had  not  done  before, 
just  how  he  felt,  and  this  was  a  comfort. 
She  came  back  and  sat  down  again. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  said  what  I  did.  For 
give  me,  Eric.  I  really  did  not  mean  to  say 
anything  of  the  kind.  I  ought  to  have  con 
trolled  my  feelings,  but  sometimes  it  is  hard. 
I  forgot  my  pride — in  fact,  I  believe,  that  ever 
since  I  have  known  you,  pride  and  I  have 
parted  company.  But  now  we  will  talk  of 
that  no  more.  Let  me  post  you  on  all  that 
has  happened  in  our  set  since  you  went  wan 
dering." 


77 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A  LONG,  low,  one-storied  adobe  house  built 
in  the  old  Spanish  style,  stood  in  the  midst  of 
a  large,  luxuriant  Southern  California  garden, 
from  which  ran  a  narrow  road,  stretching  far 
into  the  distance  through  the  wooded  country 
to  San  Diego,  about  eight  miles  distant.  Be 
yond  the  garden,  lay  immense  groves  and  or 
chards  of  oranges  and  other  fruits.  The 
mountains  lay  far  off  to  the  East,  and  but  two 
miles  westward  was  the  sea. 

On  one  of  the  broad  piazzas  of  this  adobe 
mansion,  sat  its  mistress,  Mrs.  Gordon,  a 
cheery,  good-natured  little  body.  She  was  one 
of  those  agreeable  women  whose  greatest  am 
bition  in  life  is  to  make  those  around  her  com 
fortable  and  happy.  She  adored  her  big, 
manly  husband,  and  spent  her  days  in  manag 
ing  his  household  in  the  most  perfect  manner 
possible.  When  her  household  duties  were 
over,  she  would  take  a  book,  seat  herself  in  a 

78 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

shady  corner  of  one  of  the  piazzas,  and  await 
his  return  for  supper.  He  spent  almost  every 
hour  of  daylight  off  somewhere  overseeing  his 
men  in  the  orchards,  or  riding  to  San  Diego 
on  business,  but  he  never  missed  being  home 
by  six  o'clock,  and  he  always  found  his  fond 
little  wife  waiting  for  him  out  on  the  piazza. 
It  was  now  nearly  six  o'clock,  and  she  looked 
down  the  road,  expecting  every  moment  to 
hear  the  sound  of  his  horse's  hoofs,  and  pres 
ently  her  patience  was  rewarded.  "  There  are 
two  horses,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  arose 
and  went  down  the  steps  to  meet  her  husband. 
"  Barbara  has  probably  joined  him  some 
where." 

But  when  Mr.  Gordon  drew  near  the  house, 
she  saw  that  his  companion  was  a  young  man. 

When  the  two  men  had  dismounted,  and 
their  horses  had  been  led  away  by  a  stable  boy 
who  had  come  at  the  sound  of  their  approach, 
Mr.  Gordon  said  to  his  wife: 

"  My   dear,    let   me   present   Mr.    Fielding. 

79 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

Mr.  Fielding,  this  is  my  wife.  As  you  know, 
I  went  over  to  San  Diego  to-day,  and  there 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Fielding.  He 
is  a  friend  of  Harry  Tanner,  you  remember 
my  old  school  chum?  And  any  friend  of 
Harry's  is  most  welcome  with  us,  is  he  not, 
Anne?  Mr.  Fielding  has  come  out  to  see 
about  the  ranch  I  sold  to  his  sister  last  autumn, 
and  I  want  him  to  have  plenty  of  opportunity 
to  look  it  over,  so  I  thought  he  might  like  to 
stay  with  us  a  few  days.  To-morrow  morn 
ing  I  must  go  down  to  Los  Angeles  for  a 
day  or  so  on  business,  but  I  have  persuaded 
Mr.  Fielding  to  stay  here  until  I  can  return. 
He  says  he  has  never  been  in  California  before, 
so  it  will  all  be  new  to  him,  and  I  shall  have  to 
depend  upon  you  and  Barbara  to  see  that  he 
enjoys  it." 

"  Indeed,  your  husband  is  more  than  kind," 
said  Eric ;  for  it  was  Eric  Fielding.  "  And  I 
scarcely  know  how  to  express  my  gratitude." 

"  You  are  very  welcome,"  said  Mrs.  Gordon, 

80 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

with  a  smile.  "  While  my  husband  is  gone, 
Barbara  and  I  will  do  our  best  to  make  you 
become  an  admirer  of  California,  for  we  think 
there  is  no  country  like  it." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  that  now,"  said  Eric, 
"  from  what  I  have  already  seen." 

Mr.  Gordon  then  took  Eric  through  a  broad 
archway,  across  the  open  court,  to  one  of  the 
guest  chambers  beyond.  In  a  few  moments  a 
man  drove  up  the  road  in  a  cart  from  San 
Diego  with  Eric's  luggage.  When  it  was 
brought  to  his  room,  he  changed  his  clothes, 
and  then  joined  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gordon  on  the 
front  verandah.  This  was  a  broad,  comfort 
able  porch,  shaded  by  vines,  and  covered  with 
lounging  chairs  and  little  tables,  so  that  it  was 
more  of  a  living-room  than  a  porch. 

"  Where  is  Barbara  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Gordon. 
"Is  she  not  rather  late?" 

"  Yes,"  said  his  wife,  "  it  is  growing  dark. 
I  wish  that  she  would  come,  as  supper  is  ready. 
That  child  is  simply  crazy  over  riding,  and  is 

81 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

in  the  saddle  from  morning'  till  night;  she  is 
really  more  'enthusiastic  about  it  than  you  are, 
John." 

Mr.  Gordon  laughed.  He  loved  to  see  the 
girl  enjoy  something  of  which  he  himself  was 
so  fond. 

"  Where  did  she  go  to-day?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  do  not  know  where  they  went.  After 
luncheon,  Tom  came  over,  and  off  they  rode." 

"  Hullo,  there  they  come  now,  racing  as 
usual,"  said  Mr.  Gordon,  as  the  sound  of  gal 
loping  horses  reached  their  ears.  Eric  looked 
down  the  road  and  watched  the  two  as  they  ap 
proached.  Their  horses  were  very  close  to 
gether;  it  was  difficult  to  tell  which  had  the 
lead,  but,  as  they  drew  near,  the  girl's  horse 
gave  a  fresh  start,  and  came  up  several  yards 
ahead  of  the  other. 

"  At  last,  at  last  I've  won !  "  called  the  girl, 
over  her  shoulder  to  her  companion.  Before 
he  had  a  chance  to  dismount  and  help  her,  she 
had  jumped  lightly  down  from  her  horse. 

82 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Oh,  uncle ! "  she  said,  running  up  the 
steps,  "  it's  the  first  time.  Always  before, 
Tom  has  won.  We  have  tried  it  day  after  day, 
and  all  this  afternoon  down  on  the  beach,  and 
coming  home,  I  told  him  I  would  win  this  time, 
or  never  race  again."  Then  a  sudden  idea 
came  to  her.  "  You  don't  suppose — ?  Tom!" 
she  exclaimed,  turning  to  him  anxiously,  "  you 
did  not  let  me?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  Tom.  "  You  won, 
fair  and  square.  Although  I  confess  I  am 
glad  that  you  did ;  for  I  should  have  hated  like 
fun  never  to  have  raced  again,  but  now  we  can, 
that  consoles  me  for  losing." 

By  this  time  Barbara  noticed  that  there  was 
a  stranger  present.  She  put  her  hands  up  to 
her  head  and  blushed,  for  her  hair  had  fallen 
down  about  her  shoulders,  from  the  mad  gal 
loping  of  the  last  race. 

"  Barbara,  let  me  introduce  Mr.  Fielding. 
This  is  my  niece,  Miss  Gordon,"  said  Mrs. 
Gordon. 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 


"How  do  you  do?"  said  Barbara,  holding 
out  her  hand.  "  Do  forgive  this  plight  I  am 
in,  but  racing  is  so  rough  on  one's  looks.  Ex 
cuse  me,  I  must  hurry,  as  I  know  supper  must 
be  ready." 

Eric's  eyes  followed  her  as  she  crossed  the 
court  and  disappeared  in  one  of  the  corridors 
opposite.  He  was  making  a  mental  reserva 
tion  that  racing  was  a  vastly  becoming  occu 
pation,  judging  from  the  fair  girl  he  had  just 
met,  and  that  no  conventional  arrangement  of 
the  hair  could  be  as  beautiful  as  this,  when  one 
had  such  hair  as  Miss  Gordon's. 

;'  You  must  stay  for  supper,  Tom,"  said 
Mrs.  Gordon. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  but  I  really  cannot,"  an 
swered  that  young  man,  who  was  standing  on 
the  gravel  below,  holding  his  horse's  bridle. 
Barbara's  horse  had  gone  around  to  the  sta 
bles  by  itself  as  soon  as  she  had  dismounted. 

"  I  have  been  riding  so  long,"  explained 
Tom,  "  that  I  am  not  fit  for  polite  society,  and 

84 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 


besides,  I  told  the  mater  I  should  be  back,  so 
good  night." 

He  jumped  quickly  on  his  horse,  and  gal 
loped  off. 

"  Pardon  us  for  not  introducing  him,  but 
he  went  off  so  quickly,"  said  Mr.  Gordon  to 
Eric.  "  But  no  doubt  he  will  be  over  again 
to-morrow,  then  we  shall  have  time.  I  never 
saw  a  girl  like  Barbara,  always  coming  home 
on  the  keen  gallop,  at  the  very  last  moment,  so 
that  one's  breath  is  taken  away,  and  one  for 
gets  about  introductions." 

When  Barbara  reached  her  own  room,  she 
saw  a  letter  lying  on  her  dressing-table  which 
her  aunt  had  placed  there  as  Mr.  Gordon  had 
brought  it  from  San  Diego. 

She  took  it  up  and  smiled,  as  she  recognised 
the  handwriting.  It  was  from  Dick,  though  it 
was  the  first  one  she  had  received  from  him 
since  reaching  California. 

"  Ah,  he  addresses  it  Countess  Sylvia. 
That  will  never  do,"  she  said  with  a  frown. 

85 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  I  must  write  to  him  and  tell  him  that  titles 
do  not  belong  here,  in  this  democratic  life. 
'  Countess  Sylvia  '  would  do  for  Italy — but 
here  '  Barbara  Gordon/  my  dear,  dear  mother's 
name — the  sweet  mother  I  lost  so  long  ago." 

She  read  the  letter  quickly  through,  and  then 
changed  her  riding  costume  for  a  soft,  white 
mull  dress.  Her  window  was  a  low  one,  and 
she  leaned  out  and  picked  some  sprays  of  white 
jasmine  which  grew  in  great  abundance  all 
about  the  frame.  She  twined  some  of  the 
blossoms  in  her  hair,  which  was  knotted  low 
in  her  neck.  When  she  joined  the  others,  they 
entered  the  dining-room  and  sat  down  at  the 
round,  highly  polished  table.  The  soft  lights 
of  the  wax  candles,  the  dainty  lace  doilies,  cut 
glass,  bright  silver,  and  rare  old  china  made 
it  very  attractive.  Eric  was  surprised  to  find 
such  luxury  so  far  from  what  seemed  to  him 
the  seat  of  civilisation.  The  supper  was  a 
simple  one,  but  most  inviting. 

After  the  meal  was  over  they  went  out  to 

86 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

the  verandah  again,  where  they  all  sat  talking, 
the  two  men  smoking.  After  a  while  Mr. 
Gordon  said : 

"  Out  here,  we  are  early  retirers  and  early 
risers,  Mr.  Fielding.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
will  be  glad  of  a  good  night's  rest  after  your 
long  journey.  But  you  need  not  get  up  in  the 
morning  until  you  are  quite  ready.  I  am,  from 
habit,  a  very  early  riser,  because  I  like  to  see 
that  my  men  begin  their  work  at  an  early  hour. 
My  wife  has  fallen  into  the  habit  too,  but  my 
nfece  does  not  make  an  appearance  until  much 
later,  and  you  can  wait  as  late  as  you  like." 

Mr.  Gordon  arose,  which  seemed  to  be  the 
signal  for  the  others  also,  and  they  bade 
one  another  good  night. 

When  Eric  was  in  his  room,  he  sat  by  his 
open  window,  looking  out  on  the  garden.  His 
coming  among  these  hospitable  people  was 
such  a  surprise  to  him.  He  had  had  no  idea 
that  the  Mr.  Gordon  to  whom  he  had  the  letter 
of  introduction  would  welcome  him  with  open 

37 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

arms,  and  bring  him  to  his  home  as  a  welcome 
guest.  So  impossible  is  it  to  the  average  New 
Yorker  to  understand,  without  experiencing  it, 
the  open-handed  hospitality  of  the  West.  It 
was  all  very  delightful,  and  Eric  felt  an  un 
usual  pleasure  in  being  here,  and  in  the  thought 
that  he  would  be  allowed  to  remain  at  least  a 
day  or  two  more. 

"  They  are  as  hospitable  as  the  Southern 
ers,"  he  said,  "  and  what  an  ideal  life  they  lead 
here,  no  wonder  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gordon  are  de 
voted  to  each  other,  no  wonder  the  girl  is  joy 
ous.  And  she  is  joyous — never  have  I  seen 
such  sheer  abandonment  to  the  mere  delight  in 
living.  She  seems  to  be  in  love  with  life — her 
happiness  shows  in  her  whole  being,  from  the 
crown  of  that  wonderfully  fair  head  of  hers  to 
the  tip  of  her  dainty  little  foot." 

As  these  pleasant  reflections  were  flitting 
through  Eric's  mind,  he  drew  in  a  deep  breath 
of  contentment ;  he  was  very  glad  that  he  had 
come,  and  he  wished  that  his  sister  had  a  dozen 

88 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

ranches  out  here  for  him  to  attend  to,  so  that 
it  would  take  him  a  dozen  times  as  long. 
When  he  had  been  at  supper,  sitting  opposite 
the  girl,  he  had  looked  across  at  her  whenever 
they  had  spoken  to  each  other,  and  as  many 
more  times  as  he  had  dared.  The  thought  of 
Venice  had  come  quickly  to  him — though  he 
had  seen  the  beautiful  Countess  there  but  twice, 
and  each  of  those  glimpses  had  been  but  pass 
ing  ones;  still,  the  memory  of  her  unusual 
beauty  had  been  stamped  on  his  mind,  and  he 
had  instantly  been  struck  with  the  resemblance 
between  the  two.  And  yet,  as  he  studied  his 
fair  vis-a-vis,  he  told  himself  that  she  was 
much  younger  than  the  Countess  must  have 
been — and  her  beauty  was  greater.  He  was 
sure  the  Countess  could  not  have  had  such 
eyes  as  these — so  large,  luminous,  appealing, 
such  mirrors  to  the  lovely  soul  within. 

"  I  thought  the  Countess  beautiful,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  But  I  have  found  a  little  girl 
who  far  surpasses  her." 

89 


CHAPTER  IX. 


WHEN  Eric  made  his  appearance  the  next 
morning  at  about  eight  o'clock,  he  found  his 
host  gone  to  Los  Angeles,  his  hostess  pre 
occupied  with  household  matters,  and  no  signs 
of  Barbara.  He  told  Mrs.  Gordon  that  he 
would  wait,  if  he  might,  until  Miss  Gordon 
came,  before  having  breakfast.  So  she  ex 
cused  herself  and  left  him  to  read  the  morning 
newspaper  which  was  brought  up  by  a  mes 
senger  with  the  mail  every  morning  from  San 
Diego. 

About  an  hour  had  passed,  when  Eric  heard 
a  light  footfall  on  the  piazza,  outside,  and  look 
ing  up  from  his  paper,  he  saw  Barbara  enter 
through  one  of  the  low,  French  windows,  clad 
in  a  fresh,  white  muslin  dress,  her  arms  full  of 
roses.  She  greeted  Eric  with  a  merry  laugh. 

"Just  up?"  she  asked.  "Lazy  man!  I 
have  been  up  for  an  hour,  but  I  told  auntie  I 
would  wait  breakfast  for  you." 

'  That  is  very  kind  of  you,"  said  Eric,  "  but 

90 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

you  must  not  reproach  me,  for  I,  too,  have 
been  up  for  nearly  an  hour,  and  I  told  your 
aunt  I  would  wait  for  you." 

"  So  you  have  been  thinking  me  lazy,  also  ? 
Well,  we  will  lay  all  the  blame  to  auntie — she 
forgot  that  I  was  in  the  garden." 

Barbara  went  to  a  table  and  laid  the  roses 
down.  Eric  came  over  and  stood  opposite 
her,  watching  her  arrange  them  in  the  vases 
she  had  already  filled  with  water. 

"  What  exquisite  roses !  "  said  Eric,  taking 
one  up.  "  I  never  saw  such  a  variety." 

"  Yes,  are  they  not  lovely  ?  Though  it  is 
June,  and  we  mostly  live  out  of  doors,  I  like  to 
fill  the  vases  every  day  just  the  same,  and  do 
you  know,  sometimes  it  is  so  chilly  in  the  even 
ing  that  we  are  glad  to  sit  in  the  house  with  a 
fire  in  the  grate,  and  then,  of  course,  we  could 
not  get  on  without  the  flowers  all  about  the 
room.  Don't  you  just  love  them  ?  "  she  asked, 
looking  at  him  across  the  table  on  which  the 
roses  lay  in  glorious  confusion. 

91 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  Here  is  a  little  one  I  picked  for  your  but 
tonhole,  that  is,  if  you  like  a  posy  in  your  but 
tonhole.  Do  you?"  She  held  up  a  small 
pink  moss-rose  for  his  inspection. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Eric,  looking  at  her 
face,  and  not  at  the  rose.  She  came  around 
and  pinned  it  in;  her  hand  trembled  a  little. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  after  she  had  finished  ar 
ranging  the  rest  of  the  roses  in  the  vases,  "  we 
will  go  and  have  some  breakfast.  You  must 
be  nearly  starved.  I  know  that  I  am." 

They  spent  the  morning  looking  over  the 
groves.  Eric  had  never  before  seen  fruit  grow 
ing  in  such  luxuriance,  and  it  all  interested  him 
very  much.  He  was  beginning  to  wonder 
why  he  had  never  before  had  the  desire  to  see 
California.  It  must  have  been  from  his  ig 
norance  of  its  real  magnificence. 

After  dinner,  Barbara  told  him  that  they 
would  ride  to  the  ranch  which  belonged  to  his 
sister.  It  adjoined  Mr.  Gordon's,  and  was  not 
a  long  ride.  They  found  the  ranch  somewhat 

92 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

like  Mr.  Gordon's,  only  not  nearly  so  large. 
The  house  was  a  small  but  comfortable  one, 
though  it  looked  very  deserted,  as  it  had  been 
closed  for  many  months. 

'''  The  reason  I  wanted  to  see  it  myself," 
said  Eric,  as  they  wandered  about,  "  is  that  my 
sister  has  gone  abroad,  and  has  left  the  place 
in  my  hands.  She  tells  me  either  to  sell  it,  or 
put  some  men  on  it  to  cultivate  the  fruit. 
Which  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  really  do  not  know,"  said  Barbara. 
"  Uncle  John  says  the  trees  are  in  their  prime 
now,  although  you  see  that  they  have  had  no 
care  for  the  last  six  months." 

Eric  looked  across  the  groves.  An  impul 
sive  desire  flashed  in  his  mind.  Why  not  come 
out  and  manage  it  himself?  A  life  in  this 
ideal  climate,  and  living  next  to — but  he 
checked  his  imagination  at  the  remembrance 
that  he  was  to  marry  Edith  before  very  long. 
Barbara  interrupted  his  thoughts. 

"  I  think  we  should  be  going  back,"  she  said. 


93 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  Yesterday  I  asked  Tom  Ross  to  come  over 
to-day  to  supper,  and  he  will  probably  come 
early." 

They  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  back 
in  the  long,  low  shadows  of  the  afternoon. 
They  were  silent,  both  realising  the  mysterious 
charm  which  is  always  felt  at  that  time  of 
day,  just  before  the  setting  of  the  sun.  Even 
the  horses  seemed  to  understand,  and  went 
slowly  along.  Eric  looked  at  Barbara,  who 
was  but  a  few  feet  from  him,  her  exquisite 
profile  outlined  against  the  dark  trees.  The 
sunlight  fell  caressingly  on  her  bright  hair. 
What  wonderful  hair  it  was!  So  heavy,  and 
yet  soft  and  fine,  with  a  little  wave  in  it,  and 
it  was  of  the  most  beautiful  golden  shade. 
She  was  looking  straight  ahead  of  her,  watch 
ing  the  shadows  creeping  and  growing  larger 
across  the  road.  Eric  drew  in  a  deep,  long 
breath,  as  if  he  would  drink  in  the  whole  scene 
and  impress  it  on  his  memory  forever. 

The  next  day  they  had  a  wire   from  Mr. 


94 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

Gordon  saying  that  he  should  be  detained  sev 
eral  days  longer,  and  hoped  Mr.  Fielding 
would  surely  wait  for  him.  So  Eric  was  able 
to  stay  on,  as  he  was  made  most  welcome,  and 
he  felt  that  he  was  justified  in  waiting,  for  he 
had  decided  to  put  some  men  on  his  sister's 
ranch  and  so  wanted  to  talk  it  over  with  Mr. 
Gordon  and  ask  his  advice. 

That  day  they  spent  again  in  riding  about 
the  country.  Barbara  took  him  down  to  the 
shore,  and  there  they  galloped  up  and  down 
the  long,  even,  sandy  beach. 

Later,  after  supper  was  over,  Mrs.  Gordon 
having  taken  a  book  and  seated  herself  in  the 
library  to  read,  Barbara  and  Eric  went  out  on 
the  verandah.  The  moon  had  risen  and  shed 
a  brilliant  light  on  everything,  so  that  the 
flowers  in  the  garden  below  could  be  seen 
nearly  ac  well  as  in  the  daylight.  They  stepped 
down  from  the  porch  and  strolled  through  the 
sweet-scented  paths,  coming  to  a  little  fountain 
and  stopping  before  it. 

95 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

Barbara  glanced  up  at  her  companion,  and 
found  that  he  was  looking  intently  at  her. 
He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  to  say  anything, 
and  that  perhaps  he  should  not  keep  on  look 
ing  at  her  for  such  a  long  time.  But  the  spirit 
of  this  wonderful  night  had  gotten  into  his 
brain,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  entered 
a  new  and  glorious  world,  one  made  entirely 
for  him,  with  the  girl  beside  him,  whose  beauty 
seemed  above  all  earthly  loveliness.  It  seemed 
to  his  heated  imagination  that  she  had  come 
from  another  and  fairer  world  to  walk  here 
beside  him  and  make  his  existence  perfect. 
He  almost  forgot  who  he  really  was  or  what 
had  ever  happened  to  him  in  his  life  of  the  past, 
the  present  was  so  real — so  perfect — and  she 
was  the  centre  of  it  all — and  she  stood  so  near 
to  him  that  he  could  have  touched  her  if  he 
had  had  the  right. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  at  last,  looking 
away  from  her  at  the  garden  about  them,  "  as 
if  you  had  a  little  world  of  your  own  here. 

96 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

It  is  a  little  paradise  made  for  you  to  dwell  in 
— no  other  spot  would  be  good  enough." 

Barbara  felt  a  little  thrill  of  delight  at  his 
words. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  like  our  garden,"  she 
said.  "  I  love  every  nook  and  corner  of  it." 

"  Have  you  always  lived  here  in  Cali 
fornia?"  asked  Eric. 

"  I  was  born  here,"  .said  Barbara,  avoid 
ing  a  direct  reply,  for  somehow  she  shrank 
strangely  from  having  him  discover  her  true 
rank  and  title.  "  It  is  a  beautiful  country, 
this  country  of  ours,  is  it  not?  My  uncle  has 
lived  on  this  ranch  all  of  his  life;  my  grand 
father  left  it  to  him  at  his  death.  My  mother 
was  born  here,  too,  so  you  see  I  have  inherited 
my  love  for  this  free,  open  life,  so  close  to  Na 
ture.  And  yet — and  yet — I  have  thought — 
one  time  I  believed  that  there  were  other  ex 
istences  as  attractive,  even  more  attractive, 
than  this — but  I  was  very  foolish  to  think  that. 
I  know  there  really  is  no  place  like  this  gar- 

97 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

den,  and  this  glorious  country  all  about,  where 
one  can  ride  for  hours,  free  and  happy  as  the 
birds.  Let's  sit  over  on  this  bench,"  she  con 
tinued,  moving  toward  it,  "  and  watch  the 
water  rise  and  fall.  Aren't  the  drops  silvery 
in  the  moonlight?  Are  you  fond  of  music?  " 
she  asked  suddenly,  hoping  that  he  loved  it  as 
she  did,  for  she  felt  just  in  the  mood  for  it. 

"  Yes,"  said  Eric,  "  I  care  more  for  music 
than  anything  else." 

"  Then  wait  a  moment,"  she  said,  jumping 
up  and  going  quickly  toward  the  house. 

He  looked  after  her  retreating  figure  in  a 
dazed  sort  of  way.  What  was  she  going  to 
do?  Nothing  seemed  too  good  to  come  true. 
Was  she  going  to  add  still  another  charm  to 
this  already  perfect  world  by  playing  to  him? 
His  question  was  soon  answered,  by  her  re 
appearance  with  a  violin  in  her  hand.  She 
stood  by  the  fountain,  facing  him,  and  began 
playing.  He  had  heard  many  violinists,  some 
even  famous  ones,  during  his  knocking  about 

98 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

the  world,  but  never  had  he  heard  such  an 
exquisite  touch  —  such  perfect  music.  She  be 
gan  playing  Werner's  Farewell,  "  God  Guard 
Thee,  Love"  from  the  "Trumpeter  of  Sak- 
kingen,"  part  of  which  runs  as  follows: 


Ex-bressivo. 


God  guard  thee,Love!  It  was  too  fair  a  dream !  God  guard  thee, 


Love !  A  dream  that  ne'er  might  be !  God  guard  thee,Love !  It  was  too 
>-  /TS 

i       r^=—      — ~  >-  n\          /•». 

H — N—         —  r-l- 
3: 


fair  a  dream  !God  guard  thee, Love !  A  dream  that  ne'er  might  be ! 

He  had  heard  the  opera  in  Germany  when 
travelling  there  as  a  boy  with  his  father,  and 
it  had  appealed  to  his  romantic  young  nature 
tremendously.  Although  he  had  not  known 
what  love  means,  he  had  in  fancy  felt  the 
lovers'  grief  at  parting — the  agony  of  loving 
and  wanting  the  impossible. 

As  the  music  went  on,  the  air  again  thrilled 
him  as  it  had  that  first  time  he  had  heard  it, 


99 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

only  now  a  thousand  times  more.  The  words 
came  to  his  thoughts  with  the  music,  and  it 
flashed  through  his  mind  now  that  perhaps  he 
was  to  learn  to  know  their  meaning.  The  hot 
blood  mounted  to  his  forehead.  He  wanted 
to  stop  the  world  from  revolving;  he  wanted 
to  prevent  his  own  doom.  An  inner-conscious 
ness  was  beating  mercilessly  at  his  reason, 
telling  him  that  this  music  was  a  heralder  of 
his  destiny.  He  sprang  up  and  went  across  to 
Barbara,  impulsively  catching  her  wrist. 

"  I  beg  of  you  not  to  play  that  air — that  air 
above  all  others !  "  he  said.  "  Oh,  your  music 
is  beautiful,  the  most  wonderful  I  have  ever 
heard,  but  that  air  tortures  me  so — if  you  but 
knew !  " 

She  had  ceased  her  playing,  and  he  stood, 
still  holding  her  wrist. 

"  Does  that  song  bring  you  sad  recollec 
tions?"  she  asked.  "It  has  always  been  the 
one  I  love  best — but  if  you  do  not  like  it — if  it 
has  pained  you — I  am  very  sorry  I  chose  it." 

100 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Of  course  you  could  not  have  known,"  he 
said,  looking  down  at  the  little  wrist  he  still 
held,  and  letting  it  go  quickly,  realising  how 
long  he  had  held  it,  and  ashamed  that  he  should 
have  been  so  rude. 

"  I  was  very  rude  to  ask  you  to  stop,  but  I 
could  not  control  myself.  Will  you  please 
forgive  me?  It  is  not  that  it  brought  back 
recollections,  it  was  the  thought  that — that— 
ah,  I  must  not  tell  you.  What  can  a  Heavenly 
child  like  yourself  know  of  Earth's  sorrows?  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  wonderment  in  her 
big  eyes.  Of  what  could  he  have  thought  that 
would  move  him  thus?  As  he  had  said,  she 
was  only  a  child,  perhaps,  sunny,  warm 
hearted  and  joyous,  yet  she  was  sympathetic, 
and  it  hurt  her  to  know  that  he  bore  a  deep 
grief  in  his  heart.  The  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said,  "  that  you  are 
sad.  I  wish  I  could  help  you.  Come,"  she 
continued,  starting  towards  the  house,  "  let  us 
go  inside,  the  night  air  is  growing  chilly." 

10 1 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  next  morning  Barbara  was  up  much 
earlier  than  usual.  She  had  awakened  before 
daylight,  and  a  little  later,  when  she  had  heard 
the  servants  moving  about  outside  (their  quar 
ters  were  in  cottages  back  and  apart  from  the 
house),  she  decided  to  get  up.  So  she  had  her 
breakfast  with  her  aunt,  and  mounting  her 
pony,  she  galloped  off  towards  the  beach,  when 
it  was  only  six  o'clock,  some  time  before  Eric 
made  his  appearance,  although  he,  too,  had 
been  awake  for  a  long  time. 

When  Barbara  reached  the  shore,  she  dis 
mounted  and  let  her  pony  nibble  the  grass  at 
the  edge  of  the  field,  while  she  wandered  down 
by  the  water.  She  looked  out  toward  the  sea, 
watching  the  breakers  as  they  beat  regularly 
on  the  pebbly  beach,  and  then  letting  her  gaze 
wander  out  over  the  vast  expanse  of  water  to 
the  horizon  itself,  where  the  sky  meets  the 
sea.  in  that  strange,  wonderful  line.  She 

102 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

stretched  out  her  arms  and  looked  up  at  the 
heavens,  as  if  she  wished  she  could  be  drawn 
upwards  and  become  a  part  of  that  vast  great 
ness.  Then  she  turned  and  seated  herself  a 
little  way  from  the  breakers,  leaning  her  el 
bows  on  her  knees  and  her  head  in  her  hands. 
She  sat  thus  for  some  moments — thinking. 
Then  she  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  her  pony 
back  on  the  grass.  She  saw  the  narrow  white 
road  leading  back  to  the  house  whence  she  had 
come.  All  the  familiar  scene  she  knew  so  well, 
yet  in  some  way  seemed  to  see  this  morning 
through  different  eyes.  Unconsciously  she  had 
fallen  into  the  attitude  of  a  puzzled  child,  and 
with  the  attitude  there  seemed  to  have  come 
some  of  the  child's  wistful  mood.  Half-un- 
consciously  she  began  talking  aloud. 

"  I  wish  I  might  see  him  coming  down  that 
road  now.  That  he  would  leave  his  pony 
next  to  mine,  and  then  come  and  sit  here  near 
me.  Why  I  should.  I  don't  know,  but  some 
how  I  feel  lonely.  Why  do  I  wish  for  him?  I 

103 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

cannot  understand.  I  have  never  before  needed 
any  one  in  these  rambles :  my  pony  has  seemed 
as  good  company  to  me  as  any  one  could  be, 
yet  now — Barbara,  what  has  come  over  you  ?  " 
she  exclaimed  impatiently,  giving  her  head  a 
shake  that  set  all  the  bewitching  little  curls 
about  her  forehead  dancing.  "  All  the  glory 
of  this  beautiful  morning  forgotten,  in  the 
longing  to  hear  the  voice  of  a  man  who  is  al 
most  a  stranger !  To  hear  his  voice — it  seems 
to  me  that  I  have  never  before  heard  such  a 
voice;  it  is  low,  and  yet  clear,  rich,  deep  and 
melodious.  It  has  never  before  seemed  pos 
sible  to  me  that  a  voice  could  be  so  beautiful." 
And  yet,  if  Barbara  had  but  known  it,  her  own 
was  just  as  musical,  and  being  a  woman's, 
had  a  sweet  quality,  which  the  manliness  of  his 
lacked. 

"  And  too,"  she  went  on,  "  I  would  like  to 
look  at  him.  I  am  afraid  I  look  at  him  too 
often,  and  yet  I  have  tried  hard  not  to  let  him 
discover  that  I  did,  and  I  believe  he  never  has, 


104 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

except  when  it  would  be  only  natural,  when  I 
have  been  speaking  to  him.  How  can  any  one 
help  watching  him?  He  is  so  tall,  well  built 
and  good-looking.  He  carries  himself  so  su 
perbly.  His  eyes — one  cannot  tell  at  first  about 
his  eyes,  they  are  so  changeable.  First  they 
seem  a  light  blue,  then  a  deeper  blue,  and  some 
times  a  steel  grey.  When  one  looks  at  his 
mouth  and  chin,  one  believes  that  they  are  his 
best  features,  but  when  one  sees  his  eyes,  his 
other  good  pointsare  forgotten  in  their  charm." 

She  jumped  up  and  gave  herself  a  little 
shake. 

"  Barbara,  you  fool,  you  fool,  what  is  this 
man  to  you?  Nothing,  nothing,  nothing! 
Probably  he  loves  some  girl — did  he  not  as 
much  as  say  so  last  night,  when  he  told  you 
how  bad  thatsongmadehim  feel  ?  He  must  have 
meant  that  his  sorrow  was  because  the  girl  he 
loved  was  dead,  and  that  song  reminded  him 
of  the  past.  It  must  have  been  that,  for  noth 
ing  else  could  have  moved  him  so.  He  called 

105 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

me  a  mere  child — saying  that  I  could  know 
nothing  of  life's  sorrow,  and  that  is  the  sor 
row  he  meant.  And  if  he  had  not  loved  and 
lost,  he  would  have  married  her  and  been  with 
her  now,  for  surely,  any  girl  he  loved  must 
have  loved  him." 

She  had  gone  over  to  her  pony  and  stood 
beside  him,  stroking  his  mane. 

"  Yes,  he  called  me  a  child,  and  that  is  all 
I  am,  I  suppose,  for  what  do  I  know  of  love  ?  " 
The  tears  came  to  her  eyes.  Suddenly  she 
seemed  to  pity  herself  for  being  so  young  and 
knowing  so  little.  She  wished  she  could  be  as 
he  was,  to  know  what  it  meant  to  love ;  even  if 
he  had  loved  in  vain  and  it  was  hard  to  bear, 
she  envied  him,  for  dimly  she  felt  that  love  is 
the  greatest  thing  in  the  world. 

"  Perhaps  some  day  I  shall  learn,"  she  said. 
"  I  have  never  wanted  to  learn  before,  but  now 
— now  it  seems  different." 

A  vision  of  the  girl  he  had  loved  and  lost 
came  before  her  fancy. 

1 06 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Whenever  he  hears  that  *  Song  of  Fare 
well,'  "  she  said,  "  and  the  other  airs  that  re 
mind  him  of  her,  he  will  want  to  ask  the  player 
to  stop,  as  he  asked  me  last  night.  And  the 
other  things  that  remind  him  of  her — there 
must  be  so  many — the  scent  of  a  certain  flower 
that  she  always  wore,  everything  connected 
with  her  life  is  dear  to  him.  I — I  think  I  am 
beginning  to  understand  a  little — but,  oh,  not 
that  way — not  that— 

She  threw  her  arms  about  the  pony's  neck. 
A  sob  choked  her.  Her  nature  was  one  that 
awakens  to  new  things  suddenly.  She  was 
conscious  of  this,  and  she  had  an  intuitive 
feeling  that  when  love  should  come  to  her,  it 
would  come  suddenly  and  overwhelmingly — 
and  she  was  afraid. 

All  at  once  her  pony  pricked  up  his  ears 
and  neighed.  Barbara  looked  up. 

"  Another  pony  is  coming.    Can  it  be  his  ?  " 

She  turned  and  looked  down  the  road.  She 
was  right,  Eric  was  there,  coming  toward  her. 

107 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

He  waved  his  hand  as  he  caught  sight  of  her. 
She  laughed  merrily,  her  wish  had  been 
granted,  he  was  coming,  and  to  find  her,  her! 
He  drew  near,  jumped  from  his  horse  and 
stood  beside  her. 

'  Your  aunt  said  you  told  her  that  you  were 
coming  here,"  he  said.  "  So  I  joined  you. 
You  do  not  mind,  do  you?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at  him.  "  I 
never  care  about  being  alone,  when  I  can  have 
good  company.  I  started'  off  so  early.  I 
thought  you  would  not  be  up  for  hours." 

They  went  down  and  walked  by  the  shore, 
in  a  content  so  deep  as  to  need  no  words.  The 
very  gladness  of  living,  the  beauty  of  this  per 
fect  morning  seemed  to  have  entered  their 
veins,  and  already,  though  they  knew  it  not, 
the  heart  of  all  the  joy  lay  in  this :  they  were 
together. 

On  reaching  home,  they  found  Tom  Ross 
waiting  for  them. 

"  Let's  go  on  a  picnic  to-day,"   said  Bar- 

108 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

bara.  "  We  will  take  a  long  ride  off  into  the 
hills  and  eat  our  luncheon  in  some  pretty  place. 
I  fear  Aunt  Anne  cannot  come,  for  she  never 
rides,  but  we  three  will  go." 

They  set  off,  and  had  a  merry  time  of  it. 
Barbara  laughed  more  gaily  than  she  had  ever 
laughed  before.  Her  merriment  proved  so 
contagious  that  the  two  men  could  not  help 
joining  in  it,  although  each  was  conscious  of 
a  secret  desire  for  the  other's  absence. 

On  their  return,  after  Tom  had  gone,  by 
the  road  leading  to  his  father's  ranch,  a  hush 
came  over  Barbara  and  Eric,  and  they  rode 
home  in  the  gathering  twilight  almost  as 
silently  as  they  had  walked  in  the  morning  in 
the  summer  dawn. 

That  evening  they  sat  on  the  verandah  to 
gether.  Mrs.  Gordon  was  in  the  library  read 
ing.  She  enjoyed  having  young  people  about, 
but  when  she  was  not  busy  with  her  household 
affairs,  she  liked  to  spend  her  time  in  read 
ing,  and  so  she  let  the  others  amuse  themselves. 

109 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

There  was  a  hanging-lamp  above  Barbara's 
head  which  gave  enough  light  so  that  Eric 
could  see  her  face  plainly.  He  noticed  how 
quiet  she  was,  in  fact  had  been  ever  since  their 
return  from  the  picnic. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  over  at  him,  a  faint  smile  crept 
over  her  mouth,  but  her  eyes  were  sad. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  said.  "  Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"  Because  I  have  never  seen  you  this  way 
before,  and  I  wondered  of  what  you  could  be 
thinking." 

"  You  mean  my  being  quiet  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  do  not  know  why  I  am.  I  am  usually 
laughing,  am  I  not?  But  I  think  I  am  a  little 
tired,  we  have  been  so  merry  all  day.  Yes,  T 
am  sure  I  am  tired." 

They  were  silent  after  this  for  a  while,  then 
Barbara  said :  "  Auntie  had  a  wire  from  Uncle 
John  to-day  saying  that  he  would  reach  San 

no 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

Diego  to-morrow  morning  about  nine  and 
would  come  directly  home  from  there.  That 
means  he  wants  me  to  go  there  to  ride  home 
with  him.  I  always  do  it  when  he  has  been 
away.  Would  you  like  to  come,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Eric,  "  I  should  like  it 
very  much,  if  I  should  not  be  in  the  way." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Barbara.  "We  shall 
have  to  get  an  early  start  to  be  there  on  time." 

"If  you  are  not  too  tired,  won't  you  get 
your  violin  and  play?"  asked  Eric.  She  had 
played  for  Tom  and  him  all  the  evening  be 
fore,  but  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  never  get 
enough  of  her  music.  She  brought  out  her 
violin  and  played  one  air  after  another,  and  he 
sat  listening,  enraptured. 

"  Won't  you  play  '  Werner's  Farewell ' 
again?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Barbara,  "  not  that  one. 
It  makes  you  sorrowful." 

''  Yes,  but  I  love  it,  nevertheless,"  he  an 
swered,  "  even  though  I  did  behave  so  rudely 

in 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

the  other  night  when  you  played  it,  and  I  want 
you  to  play  it  again  now,  if  you  will.  This 
time  I  will  surely  not  stop  you." 

She  played  it  for  him,  over  and  over  again, 
as  he  asked  her  to  repeat  it,  until  finally  she 
knew  it  was  growing  late,  and  that  her  aunt 
would  want  her  to  come  into  the  house. 


112 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  next  morning  dawned  beautiful  and 
bright,  and  they  rode  to  San  Diego  to  meet  Mr. 
Gordon  and  escort  him  home.  When  they  re 
turned,  and  had  reached  the  house,  the  men 
dismounted,  and  Eric  went  quickly  over  to 
where  Barbara  sat  on  her  pony.  He  had  to 
stand  very  near  in  order  to  help  her  dismount, 
and  as  she  jumped,  a  lock  of  her  hair  brushed 
against  him  and  caught  in  a  college  society 
pin,  fastened  to  his  waistcoat,  that  it  was  de 
riguer  for  him  to  wear  at  all  times  and  on  all 
occasions.  "  Wait  a  moment,"  he  said,  "  your 
hair  has  caught  on  my  waistcoat,  let  me  un 
tangle  it  for  you." 

"  I  will  pull  it,"  she  said. 

"  No,  indeed,  wait  a  second,"  and  he  took 
off  the  pin  so  that  the  hair  was  free. 

:<  Thank  you,"  she  said. 

In  his  embarrassment  and  under  the  thrill 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

of  the  contact  of  his  fingers  with  her  glorious 
hair  the  pin  was  dropped  unheeded  and  lay  un 
noticed  on  the  grass.  Barbara  had  turned  to 
ward  the  house,  and  he  followed  her.  Dinner 
was  served,  and  they  joined  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gordon  who  were  already  at  the  table. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  by  the  men  talk 
ing  over  the  matter  of  the  ranch.  Mr.  Gordon 
gave  Eric  advice  as  to  its  management,  and 
told  him  that  he  would  help  him  to  find  an 
overseer  in  San  Diego  to  take  charge  of  the 
ranch  and  also  some  men  to  do  the  work. 
Eric  decided  that  he  must  go  away  the  next 
morning,  as  Mr.  Gordon  was  going  to  San 
Diego  on  business,  and  he  knew  he  should  go 
with  him,  there  being  no  farther  excuse  for  his 
remaining  longer. 

That  evening  after  supper  Barbara  and  Eric 
wandered  into  the  garden  together  for  the  last 
time.  The  moon  was  again  brilliant,  lighting 
the  familiar  paths  and  showing  the  flowers  in 
all  their  beauty,  although  their  gorgeous  colours 

114 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

were  faded  to  a  misty  grey  or  deep  black,  save 
where  the  white  blossoms  shone  clear  and  star- 
like.  Barbara  seated  herself  on  a  rustic  bench 
and  motioned  Eric  to  sit  beside  her. 

"  What  a  glorious  night,"  she  murmured. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  absently,  looking  about 
him,  but  thinking  only  that  this  was  good-bye, 
and  wishing  that  this  hour  would  never 
end.  Suddenly  he  exclaimed,  as  if  under 
a  spell  of  an  irresistible  impulse,  "  I  want 
to  ask  your  advice.  It  is  about — a  friend 
of  mine." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  give  it,  if  I  am  able,"  said 
Barbara. 

"  Thank  you.  He  is  in  trouble  and  wants 
me  to  tell  him  what  to  do.  And  I  am  sure 
that  you  could  understand  and  decide  a  ques 
tion  like  this  better  than  a  man  could.  This 
friend  of  mine  is  engaged  to  be  married — but 
he  does  not  love  the  girl — it  is  one  of  those 
conventional  engagements.  And  he  is  in  love 
with  some  one  else,  but  of  course  he  cannot  tell 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

her  so,  or  try  to  win  her  love,  unless  his  en 
gagement  were  to  be  broken.  What  do  you 
think  he  ought  to  do  ?  " 

"  Does  the  girl  to  whom  he  is  engaged  love 
him  ?  "  asked  Barbara. 

"  She  has  said  so,  but  he  cannot  but  believe 
that  she  is  mistaken," 

"  But  if  she  does  love  him,"  said  Barbara, 
"  he  must  keep  his  word  to  her,  and  marry  her, 
and  do  his.  best  to  make  her  happy." 

"  But  now  that  he  is  in  love  with  another, 
would  it  be  fair  to  the  girl  to  marry  her,  when 
he  could  never  learn  to  love  her?  " 

"  It  would  be  fairer  than  to  break  the  en 
gagement,  as  long  as  she  loves  him,"  replied 
Barbara. 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  moment,  then  Eric 
said  slowly  and  gravely,  "  Your  words  shall 
be  his  decision,  for  your  judgment  is  better 
than  mine.  I  should  have  said  he  need  not 
marry  the  girl,  but  perhaps  I  pitied  him  too 
much." 

116 


An  AMERICAN   COUNTESS 

"  I  pity  him  too,"  said  Barbara,  "  and  when 
you  tell  him,  he  may  not  take  this  advice." 

Eric's  eyes  had  a  queer  little  smile  in  them 
for  a  second,  but  his  lips  were  closed  firmly,  as 
if  a  doom  had  been  sealed  and  there  was  no  re 
prieve  from  it. 

But  Barbara  did  not  notice  the  expression  of 
his  eyes,  nor  the  firmness  of  his  mouth,  for 
she  was  looking  straight  in  front  of  her.  She 
had  ceased  thinking  of  his  friend,  she  was  won 
dering  what  she  was  going  to  do  to-morrow — 
and  all  the  to-morrows?  She  had  never  won 
dered  about  this  before — but  now  the  whole 
world  seemed  changed.  He  was  going  to 
morrow — and  then — ?  She  shivered  slightly, 
and  closed  her  eyes  for  a  moment  to  keep  back 
the  tears. 

The  next  morning  had  come.  Eric's  luggage 
had  been  taken  by  a  servant  in  the  cart.  Mr. 
Gordon  had  already  mounted  and  started  on. 
After  Eric  had  thanked  his  hostess  warmly  for 
her  hospitality,  she  had  gone  in  the  house,  so 

117 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

he  turned  to  Barbara.  Twice  he  started  to 
speak,  but  it  seemed  impossible  to  utter  the 
words  of  conventional  good-bye.  He  lifted 
her  hand  to  his  lips  hastily,  then  raised  his  hat. 
jumped  on  his  horse  and  joined  Mr.  Gordon, 
without  a  single  backward  look. 

Eric  had  left  Barbara  standing  on  the  grass 
in  front  of  the  house,  watching  him  disappear 
down  the  road.  When  he  was  quite  out  of 
sight,  she  dropped  on  the  grass  where  she  had 
been  standing  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  The  sun  seemed  very  hot  and  she  felt 
as  if  her  head  were  burning  up.  She  lay  there 
some  time,  nestling  her  face  against  the  fresh, 
cool  blades  of  grass.  After  a  little,  she  sat  up, 
plucking  the  blades  and  gathering  them  in  a 
little  pile  in  her  lap.  Her  fingers  suddenly 
struck  something  hard. 

It  was  a  senior  society  pin. 

"  His !  "  she  whispered,  remembering. 

She  jumped  up,  and  ran  into  the  house,  hold 
ing  the  pin  in  her  tightly  clenched  hand. 

118 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

In  her  own  room  she  knelt  at  the  bed,  holding 
the  pin  up  before  her.  Then  tears  fell  on  it 
and  she  kissed  it  again  and  again,  as  if  it  were 
the  golden  Key  to  Heaven  left  in  her  posses 
sion. 


119 


CHAPTER  XII. 


As  the  train  sped  onward,  taking  Eric  home 
ward,  each  hour  farther  and  farther  away 
from  Barbara,  he  sat  gazing  out  upon  the 
passing  landscape,  yet  not  seeing  anything,  so 
absorbed  was  he  in  his  own  thoughts. 
Slowly  and  earnestly  he  reviewed  his  past  life, 
and  he  felt  ashamed  of  himself — not  for  what 
he  had  done — for  he  believed  he  had  always 
been  a  gentleman,  refraining  from  follies 
which  even  some  gentlemen  allow  themselves, 
but  he  knew  that  he  deserved  no  credit  for  thus 
keeping  his  character  pure  and  honourable,  for 
his  ideals  had  always  been  so  high,  that  to  fall 
below  the  standard  of  a  true  gentleman,  would 
have  made  him  despise  himself.  But  what 
made  him  ashamed  now  was  the  thought  of  the 
things  he  had  not  done.  He  was  twenty-six 
years  old,  and  what  had  he  accomplished  that 
would  place  his  name  above  that  of  the  ordi- 

120 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

nary  man?  What  had  been  his  aim  in  life? 
Where  were  his  ambitions  ?  He  had  had  none. 
He  had  taken  life  as  it  had  come,  easily  and 
indolently,  never  looking  ahead,  merely  enjoy 
ing  his  wealth  and  all  that  society  afforded 
him,  and  being  satisfied.  But  now  there  had 
come  a  change.  He  was  filled  with  remorse 
that  he  should  have  thus  been  content  to  drift, 
and  finally  he  Sent  his  head  in  the  gathering 
twilight,  saying  idly : 

"  Life  will  never  be  the  same  for  me  again. 
I  have  found  love — but  I  shall  never  know 
love's  gladness." 

His  was  a  nature  which  needed  love,  and 
love  alone,  to  stir  it,  to  arouse  it  from  its  for 
mer  torpor  to  a  new  growth  and  development. 
Before  he  could  find  inspiration  for  ambitions, 
he  had  been  unconsciously  waiting  'for  his 
soul's  ideal,  and  now  he  had  found  her.  He 
silently  gave  himself  to  her.  He  altered  all 
of  his  former  conceptions  of  life  and  deter 
mined  henceforth  to  live  but  for  her.  He 


121 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

would  accomplish  something,  would  make  his 
name,  if  not  famous,  at  least  known  for  good 
things.  Though  she  would  never  know  that  he 
did  it  for  her  dear  sake,  for  had  he  not  re 
ceived  his  Fate  from  her  own  unconscious 
lips?  But,  even  if  the  right  to  tell  her  was 
thus  forever  barred,  he  would  work  just  the 
same.  He  would  know  that  he  did  this,  to 
make  himself  more  worthy  of  loving  her,  even 
though  his  secret  was  to  go  down  with  him  to 
the  grave.  He  knew  that  what  he  could  do 
would  only  be  a  hundredth  part  of  what 
he  longed  to  do,  but  still,  when  it  was 
accomplished,  it  would  be  a  little  some 
thing. 

By  the  time  he  had  reached  his  journey's 
end,  so  many  hours  had  been  spent  in  thinking, 
during  the  long  days  and  also  much  of  the 
nights,  for  sleep  had  come  to  him  but  little,  he 
had  had  time  to  settle  his  plans  for  his  future 
work.  He  had  chosen  literature,  which  he  had 
always  considered  the  noblest  of  professions. 

122 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

It  seemed  to  him  a  great  thing  to  send  out  into 
the  world  books  that  would  be  a  help  to  his  fel 
low-men.  Always  a  student  and  lover  of 
books,  he  felt  now  that  whatever  talent  he 
might  have,  should  be  turned  in  that  direc 
tion. 

This  great  step  fully  determined,  he  turned 
eagerly  to  the  details,  hoping  to  so  absorb  him 
self  that  he  might  forget  the  almost  unendura 
ble  Ipnging  to  return  immediately  to  Cali 
fornia.  The  mysteries  and  glories  of  ancient 
Egypt  had  always  held  a  great  attraction  for 
him,  and  now,  the  thought  of  a  book  whose 
scene  should  be  laid  in  this  far-away  land  ap 
pealed  to  him  with  irresistible  charm.  Such  a 
book  would  involve  a  great  deal  of  study, 
which  was  what  he  wanted,  and  the  very  diffi 
culties  connected  with  it  appealed  to  him  now. 
He  would  write  a  story  of  an  Egyptian  prin 
cess,  a  fictitious  princess  of  course,  yet  he 
would  try  to  make  her  a  type  of  the  true 
oriental  character.  Her  father  should  be  a 


123 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

Pharaoh,  her  mother  a  fair,  white  slave, 
dearer  to  the  heart  of  the  haughty  Egyptian 
than  all  the  dark-skinned  daughters  of  his  own 
race.  Eric's  heroine  could  therefore  inherit 
what  was  to  his  mind  the  ideal  type  of  beauty, 
golden  hair  and  a  fair  skin.  It  would  have 
seemed  to  him  impossible  to  write  about  any 
beautiful  woman  and  not  have  her  resemble 
Barbara. 

One  late  afternoon  in  September,  Eric  sat 
at  his  desk.  He  had  been  writing  busily  all 
day.  Outside,  the  rain  beat  drearily  on  the 
window  panes,  his  study  seemed  dark  and 
chilly,  corresponding  with  a  melancholy  mood 
which  had  held  him  in  full  possession  all  day. 
He  rang  for  a  servant  to  start  a  fire  in  the 
grate.  He  felt  restless  and  depressed.  His 
book  was  progressing,  but  he  found  little  com 
fort  in  it,  and  to-day  he  believed  that  it  was 
going  to  be  a  failure.  And  even  if  it  was  a 
success,  what  would  it  matter,  what  would  it 
be  to  write  a  mere  book,  or  even  many  books? 

124 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

It  would  prove  that  he  had  done  something 
for  Barbara,  but  would  it  be  the  thing  he 
wanted  to  do  ?  No,  nothing  that  he  could  ever 
accomplish  would  be  that.  For  the  one  and 
only  thing  he  longed  for  was  his  freedom,  the 
right  to  go  back  to  her  and  try  to  win  her  love, 
and  if  he  could  win  it,  to  take  her  away  with 
him,  his  own  forever.  The  thought  that  this 
happiness  would  come  to  some  other  man, 
while  he  must  stand  aside  powerless,  some 
times  nearly  drove  him  mad.  Perhaps  even 
now  she  loved  some  one,  he  himself  was  noth 
ing  to  her,  and  never  could  be,  while  the  other 
men  were  all  free.  These  maddening  thoughts 
had  come  to  him  so  often  and  aroused  in  him 
such  depths  of  woe,  that  it  seemed  as  if  he 
could  not  keep  his  resolution  and  obey  her  com 
mand,  as  if  he  must  write  to  Edith,  asking 
for  his  freedom,  the  freedom  which  should  re 
lieve  him  from  his  promise  and  allow  him  to 
follow  his  heart's  longing,  back  to  the  Golden 
State.  Edith  had  gone  to  Europe  early  in 

125 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

June  and  would  not  be  back  until  late  in 
October. 

He  went  over  to  the  fire  and  drew  up  a  chair 
before  it.  He  thought  he  would  sit  there  a 
few  moments  until  he  had  conquered  his  des 
perate  mood  and  could  put  his  mind  again  on 
his  work.  As  the  fire  blazed  up  brightly,  it 
shed  a  glow  of  cheer  over  him  and  he  felt  his 
spirits  rise  a  little. 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door.  A  servant  en 
tered  and  handed  him  a  letter.  The  envelope 
was  of  heavy  white  paper  exhaling  the  odour  of 
violets,  the  writing  was  that  of  a  woman,  bold 
and  stunning.  He  did  not  hurry  in  opening 
it;  but  after  a  few  moments  when  he  did,  he 
read  as  follows: 

"  PARIS,  Hotel  Continental. 
Have  you  forgotten  your  friends  entirely? 
We  hear  that  you  have  been  back  from  the 
West  three  whole  months,  but  there  our  in 
formation  ends.     No  word  from  you  yourself 

126 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

— what  is  it?     I  had  hoped  you  might  come 
over  to  join  us. 

Yours  as  ever, 

EDITH. 
September  first." 

He  tossed  it  into  the  fire,  and  heaved  a  deep 
sigh. 

"  That  settles  it,"  he  muttered,  "  She  still 
cares,  or  she  would  not  write  such  a  note.  I 
should  have  written  to  her  this  summer,  I  sup- 
pose,  but  why  need  she  have  expected  me  to  join 
her?  It  is  too  late  for  me  to  join  them  now — 
but  when  she  returns — good-bye  to  these  long 
days  and  evenings  of  work.  Heavens,  I  did 
not  realise  that  these  days,  dark  as  they  have 
seemed,  have  been  free  and  untrammelled, 
compared  to  those  to  come." 

He  went  quickly  back  to  his  desk  as  if  he 
would  begin  at  once  to  make  the  most  of  the 
time  that  was  left. 


127 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


ERIC  answered  Edith's  note,  but  received  no 
reply,  he  did  not  know  on  what  steamer  she 
would  return,  but  one  afternoon  in  October 
he  saw  her  name  in  the  newspaper  in  a  list 
of  those  passengers  that  had  landed  that 
morning,  and  after  dinner  he  went  to  see  her. 
She  greeted  him  rather  coolly. 

"  Don't  let's  beat  about  the  bush,  Eric,"  she 
said,  "  I  know  something  has  happened  to  you, 
and  I  want  to  hear  all  about  it.  I  supposed  that 
you  would  join  us  in  Europe  when  you  re 
turned  from  California.  We  saw  in  the  news 
paper  that  you  had  returned,  but  you  were 
pleased  to  remain  in  New  York,  or  somewhere, 
anywhere  instead  of  joining  us." 

"  I  have  been  here  at  home,"  said  Eric. 

"Yes,  but  why?" 

"  I  have  been  doing  some  work  this  sum 
mer,"  he  said. 

Edith's  foot  tapped  impatiently  on  the  rug. 

128 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

A  thousand  thoughts  flashed  into  her  mind, 
and  above  all  there  suddenly  came  a  horrible 
fear,  a  fear  that  she  dreaded  and  yet  felt  she 
must  face. 

"  Eric,"  she  said,  her  voice  was  low  and  full 
of  emotion,  "  you  have  fallen  in  love  with 
someone.  It  is  true.  I  know  it.  It  is  the  only 
thing  that  could  have  kept  you  here,  away 
from  me  all  summer — not  that  I  am  fool 
enough  to  believe  that  you  would  have  come 
because  you  wanted  to  see  me,  but  we  are  en 
gaged,  and  you  are  too  proud  to  treat  me 
badly,  to  let  the  world  see  your  indifference. 
Your  work  alone  would  not  have  kept  you — 
and  without  a  word,  you  even  forgot  to  write 
to  me,  until  you  received  my  note." 

Eric  was  taken  utterly  by  surprise,  she  had 
read  him  so  thoroughly. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  almost  commandingly, 
"  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

He  answered  her  frankly.  It  was  best  for 
both  of  them  that  he  did,  although  he  had  not 

129 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

stopped  to  consider  this.  She  asked  the  ques 
tion  suddenly,  and  he  answered  as  quickly. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  have  fallen  in  love." 

Edith  drew  in  a  deep  breath  through  her 
closed  teeth. 

"  She  lives  here  in  New  York,  I  suppose. 
Do  I  know  her  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Eric,  "  you  do  not  know  her, 
for  she  does  not  live  here." 

"Ah — "  said  Edith,  in  a  relieved  tone.  It 
made  a  great  difference  that  the  girl  lived  else 
where.  She  could  see  now  that  Eric  had  really 
remained  home  to  work,  and  not  to  be  near  the 
girl.  Edith's  nature  was  a  thoroughly  selfish 
one,  probably,  if  her  training  had  not  tended 
to  make  her  more  so,  she  might  have  been 
different,  but  she  had  been  spoiled  from  her 
cradle  up,  and  it  was  her  first  impulse  to  think 
always  of  her  own  desires.  She  loved  Eric, 
and  would  rather  marry  him,  even  knowing 
what  she  did,  than  to  give  him  up.  She  gave 
a  little  laugh,  there  was  a  ring  of  triumph  in 


130 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

it.  She  told  herself  that  "  possession  is  nine 
points  of  the  law  "  and  she  did  not  intend  to 
become  a  martyr  and  set  him  free,  so  that  he 
might  marry  that  other  girl.  She  looked  at 
him  with  half  closed  lids  and  a  cruel  little 
smile  on  her  lips.  Eric  had  brought  her  some 
roses  which  she  had  pinned  at  her  waist;  she 
took  one  of  these  and  toyed  with  it  idly.  Eric 
was  very  still  and  did  not  look  at  her,  he  was 
watching  the  coals  of  the  fire  near  which  they 
sat.  "  I  will  not  ask  you  any  more  about  that 
girl,"  said  Edith,  "  because  she  must  be  for 
gotten.  To  confess  the  truth,  as  I  have  always 
done  to  you,  I  still  care  for  you,  and  we  will 
go  on  as  before — if  you  say  so — do  you 
agree  ?  " 

She  knew  what  his  answer  would  be. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it  so,"  he  said. 

"  I  do  wish  it,"  said  Edith.  "  I  don't  know 
that  I  care  to  get  married  yet — we  will  wait 
until  next  June — for  I  prefer  a  June  wedding." 

The  winter  passed.     One  evening  in  March 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

when  Eric  had  come  to  dine  with  her  and  they 
had  been  left  alone  in  the  drawing-room, 
Edith  was  seated  at  the  piano  singing.  She 
finally  stopped  singing  and  ran  her  fingers  idly 
over  the  keys  striking  a  few  soft  chords,  she 
was  thinking  deeply,  and  she  smiled  at  her 
thoughts.  She  had  by  this  tim/e  forgotten 
about  that  girl,  and  she  thought  Eric  had;  in 
fact  she  believed  that  he  was  growing  to  care 
for  her  now,  he  must  be,  or  he  would  not  have 
been  so  thoughtful  and  attentive  all  the  past 
winter. 

"  Eric,"  she  said  softly,  "  June — our  wed 
ding — is  very  near  now,  only  a  few  more  short 
weeks.  Don't  you  think  you  might — don't  you 
want  to — show  a  little  affection  for  me  now  ?  " 
She  glanced  up  at  him  appealingly. 

His  look  startled  her,  his  eyes  had  become  a 
deep  grey  and  flashed  like  steel,  but  she  went 
on,  in  spite  of  what  they  told  her. 

"  Eric,  you  know  how  I  love  you, — and  I 
want  you  to  love  me — I  want  you  to " 

132 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

But  he  interrupted  her. 

"  Please  do  not  say  it.  Do  you  not  under 
stand?" 

She  arose  and  stood  very  near  to  him. 

"  No,  I  do  not  understand,"  she  whispered, 
"  but  I  want  to.  I  want  you  to  understand 
how  I  love  you,  I  want  you  to  show  that  you 
care  for  me.  Eric !  "  she  cried,  frightened, 
"  you  don't  mean — you  cannot — still  love  that 
other  girl?" 

"  Do  not  ask  me,"  said  Eric. 

"  But  I  must,"  said  Edith.  "  Tell  me,  tell 
me,  I  must  know !  " 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  Eric.  "  God  forgive 
me,  but  it  is  true." 

"  True !  Oh,  Eric,  I  cannot  stand  it.  I  be 
lieved  that  you  had  forgotten  her — I  hoped 
that  you — oh,  I  cannot  bear  it !  "  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  and  burst  into 
tears. 

He  led  her  gently  over  to  a  chair.  Then  he 
turned  and  strode  back  and  forth  in  the  room. 


133 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

He  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  The 
rain  had  begun  to  fall,  and  the  lights  of  the 
Avenue  blinked  at  him  mistily  through  the 
gloom.  A  voice  within  him  was  whispering 
mercilessly,  as  it  had  that  night  in  California 
when  Barbara  had  first  played  to  him.  The  re 
frain  came  to  him  now,  he  seemed  to  hear  it 
as  plainly  as  he  had  then.  The  words  rang 
through  his  senses,  showing  him  that  their 
prophecy  of  that  night  had  come  true.  He 
pushed  his  hair  back  from  his  forehead,  his 
lips  were  closed  firmly,  he  straightened  his 
shoulders,  then  turned  and  went  over  to  Edith, 
who  sat  dejected  and  forlorn,  weeping  silently. 
"  Edith,"  he  said  gently,  "  please  do  not  cry. 
I  wish  to  heaven  that  I  could  be  different  from 
what  I  am,  that  I  could  give  you  the  love  you 
say  you  feel  for  me.  I  am  vastly  unworthy  of 
your  love,  Edith,  and  it  seems  very  strange  to 
me  that  you  should  feel  as  you  do,  but  if  you 
do,  I  will  try  to  make  you  as  happy  as  I  can. 
If  I  were  the  man  I  was  a  year  ago,  I  would 

134 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

try  and  hope  to  love  you,  and  to  be  able  to 
show  you  the  affection  the  man  who  is  to 
marry  you  should,  but  I  am  not — all  the  world 
is  changed  to  me.  But  if  you  wish  a  husband 
who  can  give  you  nothing  but  his  name,  pro 
tection  and  worldly  wealth,  then  we  will  marry 
and  make  the  best  of  it." 

They  were  hard  words  for  him  to  say,  for  he 
knew  that  if  she  really  did  love  him,  they 
sounded  cruel,  but  they  were  the  truth,  and  he 
felt  compelled  to  say  them. 

She  faltered — for  she  was  torn,  as  she 
always  had  been,  between  the  desire  to  marry 
him,  and  the  humiliation  her  proud  heart  felt 
to  want  a  man  who  did  not  love  her,  but  her 
love  mastered  her,  and  she  replied  simply: 

"  I  want  to  marry  you,  Eric,  I  could  not 
live  without  you." 

"  Very  well/'  he  said  solemnly,  "  I  will  come 
to  see  you  again  to-morrow,  but  I  must  go 
now,  it  is  growing  late.  Try  to  forget  this 
evening,  and  in  the  future  we  need  not  refer 

135 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

to  it.  Good  night."  He  made  a  low  bow  and 
left  her. 

When  he  had  gone,  she  sat  very  still  for  a 
few  moments.  Then  she  laughed — long,  low 
peals  of  laughter — her  mood  had  changed  sud 
denly,  as  it  always  did. 

"I  have  had  my  way!"  she  said  trium 
phantly.  "  He  will  marry  me.  When  he  is 
my  husband,  I  will  make  him  forget  that  other 
girl — and  he  shall  love  me  then,  yes,  me,  me, 
me! " 


136 


CHAPTER  XIV 


JUNE  was  drawing  near.  Eric's  book  was 
nearly  finished  now.  He  wanted  to  take  it  to 
a  publisher  and  get  it  accepted,  if  he  could,  be 
fore  his  marriage.  He  wanted  to  feel  that  he 
had  accomplished  one  thing  at  least  for  Bar 
bara.  It  would  have  been  simple  for  him  to 
have  published  it  himself,  of  course,  but  he 
felt  a  great  longing  to  have  this,  his  first  work 
for  the  girl  he  loved,  judged  on  its  own  merits, 
so  he  desired  the  impartial  verdict  of  a  pub 
lisher. 

Edith  had  decided  that  she  preferred  to  have 
a  house  wedding  at  their  summer  home  in 
Newport,  So  her  family  moved  down  two 
weeks  before  the  time,  and  with  them  the  girls 
who  were  to  be  Edith's  bridesmaids.  Eric 
went  down  also  and  stopped  at  an  hotel,  where 
he  was  entertaining  the  men  who  were  to  be 
his  ushers.  He  had  his  own  horses  brought 

137 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

down,  that  he  might  do  his  full  share  in  the 
wedding  festivities,  being  determined  to  show 
no  lack  of  courtesy  to  the  woman  so  soon  to 
be  his  wife. 

One  evening,  two  nights  before  the  wed 
ding,  Edith  had  been  giving  a  dinner.  When  it 
was  over,  tempted  by  the  beauty  of  the  night, 
the  young  people  had  all  strolled  down  to  the 
beach.  Edith  and  Eric  had  started  with  them, 
but  Edith  went  slowly  and  let  the  others  get 
on  ahead,  then  she  stopped  and  said  to  Eric. 

"  They  will  not  miss  us,  let's  go  back  to  the 
house,  I  want  to  be  alone.  I  am  tired  of  hav 
ing  so  many  people  about  all  the  time." 

They  went  back  and  sat  on  the  verandah. 

"  Do  you  remember,  Eric,  that  evening  last 
March  ?  "  said  Edith,  looking  intently  at  him. 
"  The  evening  that  you  told  me  it  was  impos 
sible  for  you  to  show  any  affection  for  me  ?  Do 
you  remember  all  you  said  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Eric,  slowly. 

"  And  did  you  really  mean  it  all  ?  " 

138 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Have  I  given  you  reason  to  believe  I  did 
not?" 

"  N-o,"  she  replied,  hesitatingly, ''but  I 
supposed  you  meant  it  only — until  we  should 
be  married.  Then,  of  course,  I  should  think 
there  would  be  a  change." 

"  I  did  not  say  that." 

"  I  know  you  did  not  say  it,  but  I  feel  that 
you  must  change  then." 

"  You  mistake,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Then  if  you  still  dislike  me,  if  you  will 
never  love  me,  why  do  you  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Why?    Must  I  tell  you  again?  " 

"  Yes,  I  wish  to  hear  again." 

"  Because  we  are  engaged,  and  you  have  not 
broken  the  engagement,  7  cannot.  A  man  is  in 
honour  bound,  it  is  only  a  girl's  privilege." 

"  Do  you  mean  then,"  she  asked  excitedly, 
"  that  after  we  are  married  you  will  still  be  as 
cold,  as  cruel,  as  heartless  to  me,  as  you  are 
now?" 

"  I  know,"  said  Eric,  "  that  I  am  cold,  but 

139 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

I  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  been  cruel  or  heart 
less.  I  have  not  meant  to  be." 

"  Eric,"  she  pleaded,  coming  over  and  put 
ting  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  lifting  her 
face  very  near  his  own,  "  won't  you  kiss  me 
then?  Can't  you  show  me  one  bit  of  tender 
ness  ?  Eric,"  she  cried  passionately,  "  kiss  me 
now ! " 

To  another  man,  this  would  not  have  been 
a  difficult  thing  to  do — for  she  was  very  beau 
tiful,  and  love  shone  in  her  whole  being.  But 
Eric  sprang  up  and  away  from  her. 

"  No,  you  mistake,"  he  cried,  hoarsely,  "  if 
you  think  I  will  ever  kiss  you.  You  do  not  un 
derstand.  I  will  never  kiss  any  one  so  long  as 
I  live.  I  have  vowed  never  to  do  that.  I 
thought  you  understood.  I  will  make  you  my 
wife,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  do  all  in 
my  power  to  make  you  happy,  I  never  mean  to 
fail  you  in  all  the  duty  and  courtesy  I  should 
owe  my  wife, — but  you  must  realise  that  my 
life,  my  thoughts,  my  heart  are  my  own,  and 

140 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

in  them  you  can  have  no  share.  If  this  sounds 
cruel,  forgive  me,  for  I  thought  you  under 
stood,  and  if  you  do  not,  it  is  better  that  you 
should  know  it  now — for  I  shall  not  change." 

She  walked  over  to  the  edge  of  the  piazza 
and  back  again,  her  hands  clenched  tightly, 
her  whole  frame  quivering  with  rage.  Back 
and  forth,  back  and  forth  she  walked  rapidly — 
all  the  fury  of  her  nature  was  aroused.  She 
could  be  savage  if  she  allowed  herself.  She 
knew  that  Eric  meant  just  what  he  said,  and  she 
was  overcome  with  the  bitterness  of  despair. 

She  stopped  suddenly  before  him. 

"  It  is  because  you  love  her  so  still !  "  she 
cried.  "  Oh,  Heavens,  will  you  never  forget 
her?  It  is  because  she  loves  you  too — only 
you  were  not  free.  Yet  you  must  have  kissed 
her,  at  least  once,  and  you  wish  to  keep  the 
remembrance  of " 

"  Hush ! "  he  cried,  in  a  low,  commanding 
tone.  His  eyes  were  dark  with  angry  passion, 
and  she  shivered  as  she  met  their  gaze. 


141 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  You  shall  not  speak  of  her,"  he  went  on. 
"  You  have  no  right.  You  may  think  what 
you  like  of  me,  but  not  one  word  of  her." 

He  walked  away  from  her,  going  down  the 
steps  of  the  piazza..  She  went  quickly  over  and 
looked  down  at  him,  he  was  half  way  across 
the  lawn,  unconscious  of  where  he  intended  to 
go. 

"Eric!"  she  cried,  in  a  sharp,  piercing 
voice.  M  Come  back,  you  must,  I  wish  to 
speak  to  you." 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  when  he  had 
reached  the  steps.  She  ran  down  and  stood  in 
front  of  him,  her  eyes  were  blazing,  her  face 
white  with  rage. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  have  changed. 
I  no  longer  love  you.  You  have  made  me  hate 
you.  You  may  go.  I  must  have  been  mad  to 
have  thought  that  I  loved  you.  I  was  a  fool, 
but  I  am  one  no  longer.  Go,  you  are  free  to 
do  as  you  like." 


142 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

He  had  folded  his  arms  and  stood  calmly 
looking  at  her. 

"  At  last  I  believe  you  know  yourself,"  he 
said,  "  I  have  always  felt  and  told  you  that 
your  feeling  for  me  was  not  love.  I  trust, 
however,  that  you  are  equally  mistaken  in 
thinking  that  your  present  feeling  is  hatred. 
For  you  I  have  only  kindest  good  wishes,  and 
most  sincerely  I  trust  the  future  will  give  you 
all  the  happiness  you  deserve.  Let  us  forget 
the  mistakes  we  have  made,  and  part  in  peace." 

He  held  out  his  hand. 

A  moment  ago  she  had  been  trembling  with 
anger,  but  his  gentleness  seemed  to  quiet  her, 
and  her  one  thought  now  was  to  end  it  all  with 
as  much  dignity  as  she  could  summon.  So  she 
stretched  out  her  hand  and  met  his. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  a  smile  lighting  her 
face.  "  When  we  meet  again  we  shall  have 
forgotten,  and  I  hope  you  will  have  forgiven 
— for  I  need  it.  Now  go,  do  not  say  any 
more — I "  she  turned  and  ran  up  the  steps. 

143 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

He  looked  after  her  and  called  good-bye,  then 
he  went  quickly  down  the  gravel  walk  and  out 
to  the  white,  moonlit  road,  dazed  with  the  un 
expected  happenings  of  the  last  half  hour.  He 
went  back  to  his  hotel,  as  it  was  too  late  to 
catch  a  train  that  night.  He  locked  his  door, 
and  sat  at  the  open  window,  looking  out  into 
the  still  night — he  was  alone  with  his  free 
dom! 

He  sat  there  for  hours,  watching  the  moon 
slowly  pass  through  the  heavens,  then  the  stars 
disappear  one  by  one,  and  the  dawn  approach. 
As  the  sun  began  to  rise  higher  and  higher,  he 
told  himself  that  he  could  now  leave,  that  there 
was  an  early  train  at  six-thirty.  His  first  im 
pulse  was  to  take  it,  but  then  he  thought  of  his 
guests,  the  men  staying  there  with  him,  and 
who  were  to  have  been  his  ushers.  He  must 
wait  and  tell  them,  it  would  not  be  courteous 
to  leave  them  so.  He  remained  by  the  window 
until  his  valet  came  to  take  his  orders.  When 
the  man  saw  that  his  master  had  not  been  to 


144 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

bed,  he  was  inwardly  astonished,  but  out 
wardly  showed  the  phlegmatic  blindness  be 
longing  to  any  well-trained  servant. 

Eric  ordered  him  briefly  to  pack  his  things, 
telling  him  that  they  would  take  the  ten- 
thirty  train  for  town,  and  to  leave  orders  to 
have  the  horses  follow.  He  changed  his 
clothes,  and  joined  his  friends  in  the  dining- 
room.  They  all  sat  at  one  table,  and  he  told 
them  simply  that  Edith  had  broken  the  en 
gagement,  and  so,  of  course,  the  wedding 
would  not  take  place.  There  was  that  in  his 
manner  which  made  them  understand  that 
there  were  to  be  no  questions  asked  and  no 
further  information  given. 

Reaching  the  city,  Eric  drove  directly  to  his 
house,  deposited  in  his  desk  the  manuscript  of 
his  story,  which  had  suddenly  lost  much  of  its 
value  to  him,  and  left  town  on  the  midnight 
train  for  the  west — and  Barbara! 


145 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  long  journey  seemed  to  drag  itself  out 
endlessly.  Would  he  never  reach  California? 
The  days  he  spent  in  the  smoking  compart 
ment,  gazing  blankly  out  of  the  window,  with 
only  a  cigar  for  company,  as  the  other  men  saw 
that  he  did  not  care  to  join  in  their  games  of 
cards,  they  let  him  alone.  The  nights  he  spent 
tossing  restlessly  about  in  his  berth,  for  he 
could  sleep  but  little,  longing  for  the  morning 
that  would  bring  him  one  day  nearer.  Would 
she  be  there  just  as  he  had  left  her?  Or  would 
she  perhaps — have  married?  It  was  a  whole 
year  ago  that  he  had  left  California,  and  he 
knew  many  things  could  happen  in  a  year,  but 
it  was  too  agonising  to  him  to  face  the  possi 
bility  of  her  having  married,  so  he  put  it  away 
from  him,  assuring  himself  that  she  would  be 
there,  heart-free  as  when  he  rode  away  so 
mournfully  twelve  months  before.  Should  he 
be  able  to  win  her?  Not  at  first,  perhaps,  but 

146 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

he  would  live  on  his  sister's  ranch  where  the 
men  were  working,  and  see  Barbara  every  day 
and  patiently  woo  her.  If  she  should  at  first 
refuse  him,  he  would  tell  her,  "  If  you  think 
I  am  not  worthy  of  you — which  I  know  I  am 
not — I  will  try  day  and  night  to  become  more 
so,  I  will  make  myself  what  you  shall  will  me 
to  be — anything  will  be  possible  to  a  love  like 
mine." 

One  of  the  nights,  when  he  lay  tossing  about, 
he  let  his  imagination  picture  their  life  to 
gether,  if  Barbara  would  consent  to  marry 
him.  He  planned  what  he  would  do  for  her, 
the  home  he  would  build  for  her,  the  beauty 
with  which  he  would  surround  his  wife.  He 
would  make  her  life  one  long  blissful  reality, 
there  was  no  pleasure  that  she  should  not  en 
joy,  no  happiness  that  she  should  not  feel  to  the 
utmost.  And  he  would  stand  between  her  and 
all  troubles,  no  care  should  ever  come  near  her, 
she  should  never  know  a  single  hardship  of  life, 
he  would  keep  her  in  a  little  Paradise  of  their 

147 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

own.  His  joy  was  so  exquisite  as  he  let  his 
thoughts  dwell  on  the  future,  his  imagination 
took  him  beyond  even  the  possibilities  of  hu 
man  power,  nor  did  his  dreaming  stop  with 
this  life;  he  felt  that  he  would  take  her  with 
him  to  the  farthest  star  in  the  Heavens  and 
there  they  would  abide  together  forever.  Eter 
nity  itself  did  not  seem  long  enough  for 
him  to  look  forward  to  in  his  existence  with 
her. 

At  last  he  reached  San  Diego.  He  sent  his 
luggage  to  an  hotel  and  hastily  procured  a 
horse  and  started  toward  Mr.  Gordon's  ranch. 
Though  the  poor  horse  did  his  best,  it  seemed 
to  Eric  that  he  went  along  no  faster  than  at  a 
snail's  pace.  He  looked  eagerly  ahead  of  him, 
noticing  the  familiar  land-marks  of  the  road 
he  had  traversed  with  Barbara.  He  was  all 
impatience  to  catch  sight  of  the  house  and  see 
if  he  could  not  discover  h£r  on  the  front 
verandah. 

"  As  soon  as  I  have  greeted  the  others,"  he 

148 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

said,  "  I  will  ask  Barbara  to  come  at  once  with 
me  to  one  of  those  little  rustic  benches  in  the 
garden.  This  time  I  will  not  have  to  cloak  my 
love  in  the  disguise  of  a  friend,  I  can  tell  her 
the  whole  truth.  I  will  pour  out  to  her  my  very 
soul — and  she  will  have  to  listen.  Ah,  I  can 
see  her  dear  face  now,  as  she  turns  it  to  me, 
those  wonderful  grey  eyes  of  hers  looking  into 
mine.  They  may  be  filled  with  surprise  at 
first,  they  may  not  respond  to  mine  with  the 
love  I  crave — not  at  first  perhaps — but  soon, 
ah  yes,  soon.  I  will  not  let  her  wait  long  before 
giving  me  the  love  I  shall  demand.  She  must 
love  me,  it  shall  come  to  her  suddenly  and  over 
whelmingly." 

He  reached  the  entrance  to  the  garden  and 
looked  anxiously  towards  the  house.  There 
were  no  signs  of  a  slender,  white-clad  figure; 
the  only  person  he  saw  was  Mr.  Gordon,  who 
sat  on  the  front  steps  smoking  a  pipe  and  list 
lessly  watching  him  approach. 

Eric  jumped  from  his  horse,  threw  the  reins 

149 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

over  a  post  and  advanced  eagerly  toward  Mr. 
Gor'don. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  said.  "You  re 
member  me,  do  you  not?  Eric  Fielding?" 

Mr.  Gordon  looked  up  at  him  without  rising. 
His  expression  for  a  moment  was  one  of  blank 
astonishment,  then  he  smiled,  and  motioned 
Eric  to  sit  down  beside  him. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  "  sit  down,  won't 
you?" 

So  intent  was  Eric  on  his  quest  that  he  did 
not  notice  the  great  change  in  Mr.  Gordon. 
The  man  who,  a  year  ago,  was  a  perfect  type 
of  a  hale  and  hearty  mddle-aged  gentleman, 
with  ruddy  cheeks,  bright  eyes  and  hair 
scarcely  grizzled,  looked  now  like  a  man  twenty 
years  older.  His  cheeks  were  pale  and  sunken, 
his  form  bent,  and  his  hair  nearly  white,  but 
the  most  striking  change  was  found  in  his 
eyes,  they  were  vacant,  expressionless,  and 
every  now  and  again  a  wild  stare  came  from 
them. 


150 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"How  is  your  wife?"  asked  Eric,  as  he 
seated  himself,  "and  how  is  Miss  Barbara?" 

Mr.  Gordon  looked  again  at  him  in  the  same 
stupefied  manner. 

"  My  wife — "  he  said  slowly,  "  why  she  is 
dead; last  March  she  died, buried  in  the  church 
yard  yonder." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  very  very  sorry,"  said  Eric. 
"  How  dreadfully  hard  it  must  be.  You  have 
my  deep  sympathy." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Gordon,  a  deep 
shade  of  melancholy  and  unutterable  loneliness 
overspreading  his  face.  Eric  was  silent  a  mo 
ment,  then  he  asked, 

"  But  your  niece,  Miss  Barbara,  she  is  here 
and  well,  is  she  not  ?  "  Mr.  Gordon  looked 
over  at  him  sadly. 

"  Barbara  is  dead  also ;  she  died  at  the  same 
time  that  my  wife  died.  Come,"  he  said  rising 
slowly,  "  I  will  show  you  her  grave.  She  was 
buried  here  in  the  garden,  for  she  always  loved 
it  so.  She  lies  under  the  jessamines.  I  go 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

there  every  day  to  water  the  poor  little  flowers. 
How  she  did  love  them !  That's  why  they  cov 
ered  her  grave  with  them.  Barbara  was  a  good 
little  girl.  And  my  wife,  how  dear  she  was 
to  me!  I  am  lonely  now  that  they  are  gone, 
there  is  no  one  left  here  but  strangers." 

Eric  staggered  after  him  down  the  path. 
He  looked  blankly  down  upon  the  spot  of  white 
blossoms  to  which  Mr.  Gordon  pointed.  "  You 
see  it?  "  said  Mr.  Gordon.  "  You  are  sorry?  " 
he  asked,  as  he  turned  and  led  the  way  back 
to  the  house.  "  You  knew  Barbara  and  liked 
her?  Every  one  liked  her,  I  am  lonely  now." 

Eric  drew  himself  together  with  an  effort 
and  tried  to  answer. 

"  You  must  be  indeed,"  he  said.  "  Can  I  do 
anything  for  you  ?  " 

"  No,  there  is  nothing,"  replied  Mr.  Gor 
don.  "  These  strangers  take  good  care  of 
me.'" 

Eric  put  his  hand  up  to  his  head,  a  terrible 
dizziness  was  overpowering  him.  He  leaned 
against  a  pillar  of  the  piazza  a  moment,  trying 

152 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

to  realise  the  truth.  It  seemed  as  if  he  must 
be  dreaming  some  horrible  dream  from  which 
he  would  awaken  suddenly,  but  as  he  glanced 
about  the  old  familiar  place,  as  he  looked 
down  at  the  man  so  near  him,  and  then  over  at 
the  little  patch  of  white  jessamine  flowers,  he 
knew  that  it  was  not  a  dream,  but  cold,  stern 
reality. 

"  I  must  be  going,"  he  said  suddenly.  "  If  I 
can  ever  do  anything,  you  will  let  me  know, 
will  you  not?  " 

He  went  over  to  his  horse  and  mounted 
quickly.  "  Good-bye,"  he  said,  as  he  turned 
toward  the  gate  and  down  the  long,  narrow 
road  back  to  San  Diego.  When  he  reached  the 
hotel,  he  found  there  was  a  train  which  left  at 
seven.  He  hurriedly  jumped  into  a  trap  with 
his  luggage  and  went  to  the  station,  as  there 
was  not  a  moment  to  spare.  He  must  not  miss 
that  train,  he  must  catch  it  and  be  moving, 
moving — he  cared  not  where — but  he  could 
not  remain  there  or  stay  still  another  moment. 

153 


CHAPTER  XVI 


NIZZA-LA-BELLA,  as  its  inhabitants,  more 
Italian  than  French,  like  to  call  it,  is  a  small 
amphitheatre.  North,  east  and  west  are  the 
hills  and  mountains,  and  at  the  south  is  the 
sea.  It  is  one  of  the  fairest  spots  on  the 
Riviera,  the  pearl  of  the  Mediterranean. 

Though  the  roses  and  flowers  were  in  their 
prime,  and  Nice  looked  her  fairest,  the  weather 
was  beginning  to  grow  so  warm  that  most  of 
the  owners  of  the  villas  and  spacious  mansions 
had  closed  them  and  gone  north  to  Switzerland 
or  some  cooler  spot  for  the  summer  months. 

The  Baroness  sat  in  one  of  the  shaded  salons 
of  her  niece's  villa.  She  was  looking  delight 
fully  cool  in  a  summer  silk  morning  dress,  with 
her  hat  and  gloves  on  as  if  ready  for  a  drive. 

She  glanced  impatiently  at  the  clock  on  the 
mantel,  then  she  laughed  a  little,  saying  to  her 
companion : 

"  It  is  unusual  for  me  to  be  ready  nearly 

154 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

half  an  hour  before  the  time.  But  I  am  so 
eager  to  see  Sylvia,  I  had  to  get  ready  early 
even  if  I  must  sit  about  waiting  till  the  time 
to  go." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  not  too  early  to  start  now," 
said  her  companion,  who  was  none  other  than 
Dick  Ames.  "  The  train  arrives  at  eleven,  and 
it  is  now  nearly  ten-thirty." 

"  Then  let  us  go,"  said  the  Baroness  eagerly. 

They  went  out  and  entered  an  open  landau 
and  told  the  coachman  to  take  them  to  the 
station. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you,  did  I,  the  reason  Sylvia 
is  coming  back  now  ?  "  asked  the  Baroness. 

"  No,"  replied  Dick.  "  I  imagined  that  she 
was  going  to  remain  there  indefinitely  to  be 
with  her  uncle." 

"  She  did  feel  it  her  duty,  after  her  aunt's 
death,  but  the  last  letter  I  had  from  her,  just 
before  the  cable  saying  she  was  coming  home 
immediately,  told  me  of  a  dreadful  accident 
her  uncle  had  had.  He  fell  from  his  horse, 


155 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

and  though  he  recovered  physically  in  a  few 
days,  he  was  affected  mentally,  and  the  physi 
cians  said  he  would  remain  that  way  always. 
His  memory  was  gone.  Though  he  seemed  to 
remember  that  his  wife  had  died,  he  also  be 
lieved  Sylvia  was  dead  and  recognised  none 
of  his  old  friends.  As  he  took  a  dislike  to 
Sylvia,  thinking  her  a  stranger,  she  felt  her 
presence  had  become  an  annoyance  to  him  in 
stead  of  a  help. 

Perhaps  you  may  think  it  strange,  Mr. 
Ames,  but  I  have  never  told  any  one  where  Syl 
via  has  been  this  past  year.  I  have  merely  said 
that  she  has  been  visiting  friendts.  Sylvia 
wrote  me  that  she  had  told  you  the  cause  of  her 
leaving  me.  I  will  confess  to  you  that  the  rea 
son  I  have  not  cared  to  speak  of  her  where 
abouts  is  that  I  felt  hurt  that  she  should  leave 
me  and  go  to  her  relatives  in  America  merely 
because  of  a  few  angry,  thoughtless  words  of 
mine.  I  am  going  to  ask  her  if  she  will  not 
mention  it  either — her  having  been  to  America 

156 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

— for  if  she  should  tell  even  that  much,  I  feel 
it  would  place  me  in  such  an  uncomfortable 
light.  You  understand,  do  you  not?  " 

"  You  may  be  sure,  Baroness,  that  I  have 
not  spoken  of  it  to  any  one.  Though  when  in 
Venice,  just  after  her  departure,  I  did  tell 
Philip  Monroe,  the  friend  who  is  here  with  me 
now,  you  know,  that  she  had  gone  to  America ; 
but  of  course  I  did  not  tell  the  reason,  and  I 
am  sure  he  has  not  spoken  of  her  whereabouts 
to  anyone." 

"  That  is  well,"  said  the  Baroness.  "  There 
is  no  reason  why  it  should  be  talked  of.  Every 
one  has  gone  away  now,  and  Sylvia  and  I  will 
probably  leave  directly  for  Switzerland,  and 
when  we  return  in  the  autumn,  it  will  be  so 
natural  to  have  her  here  with  me,  that  they 
will  have  forgotten  that  she  has  been  away  for 
over  a  year,  and  I  want  to  forget  it  myself.  I 
have  learned  how  dear  that  child  is  to  me,  and 
I  don't  care  to  remember  the  past  year." 

They  had  reached  the  station  and  had  to 


157 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

wait  but  a  very  few  moments  before  the  train 
arrived,  from  which  Sylvia  alighted. 

"  But  why,"  said  the  Baroness  when  they 
had  returned  to  the  villa,  Dick  having  taken  his 
departure  and  they  were  comfortably  seated  at 
luncheon,  "  why  did  you  not  tell  me  in  your 
letter,  or  cable  me,  what  steamer  you  were  to 
take?  For  I  could  have  met  you  in  Liverpool." 

"  I  did  not  want  to  give  you  all  that 
trouble,"  answered  Sylvia,  "  for  what  would 
have  been  the  use?  I  had  Maria,  who  went 
with  me,  you  know,  and  we  managed 
beautifully." 

"  You  are  such  an  independent  child,"  said 
the  Baroness,  looking  at  her  fondly.  "  As  I 
wrote  in  my  letter,  Sylvia,  I  am  very  sorry  for 
all  I  said  that  day.  I  did  not  realise  how  un 
just  I  was,  and  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  You  know  it  is  granted,  auntie  dear,"  said 
Sylvia,  coming  around  the  table  and  kissing 
her.  "  I  told  you  in  my  letter  that  it  was 
entirely  granted." 

158 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Oh,  child,  how  good  it  is  to  have  you 
again !  "  said  the  Baroness.  "  I  have  missed 
you  more  than  I  can  say,  and  if  you  will  only 
stay  with  me  now,  you  need  never  marry — 
not  even  if  a  hundred  dukes  come  to  ask 
you." 

Sylvia  laughed. 

"  What  happened  to  the  Duke  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  did  not  tell  him  where  you  had 
gone,  but  said  you  would  probably  not  return 
for  some  time.  He  waited  about  for  a  while, 
then  evidently  gave  you  up  and  went  back  to 
England.  I  have  learned  my  lesson,  Sylvia, 
I  shall  never  in  the  future  want  you  to  marry 
against  your  will.  You  shall  marry  if  you  fall 
in  love,  but  never  until." 

"  Thank  you,  auntie,"  said  Sylvia,  a  little 
wistfully,  looking  out  toward  the  garden 
through  one  of  the  low  French  windows. 

"  I  have  planned  a  trip  to  Switzerland,"  said 
the  Baroness.  "  You  will  like  it,  shall  you 
not?" 


159 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Sylvia,  "  No  one  likes  Nice 
in  mid-summer." 

After  luncheon  Sylvia  superintended  the  un 
packing  of  her  trunks,  though  there  were  but 
two,  as  her  wardrobe  had  been  a  compara 
tively  small  one  in  California. 

"  The  gowns  you  left  here  are  all  still  hang 
ing  in  their  closets,"  said  the  Baroness,  "  but 
I  fear  they  are  horribly  out  of  style  now." 

"  They  must  be,"  said  Sylvia,  "  but  I  will 
continue  to  wear  these  while  I  keep  on  my 
mourning  for  Aunt  Anne.  Oh,  how  good  it 
is  to  be  back  again,  auntie,  how  good  it  is !  " 


1 60 


CHAPTER  XVII 


AFTER  a  quiet  summer  in  Switzerland,  the 
Baroness  and  Sylvia  returned  to  their  home  in 
Nice,  but  they  mingled  very  little  in  society 
during  the  winter  on  account  of  Sylvia's 
mourning,  which  she  felt  very  little  inclined 
to  lay  aside,  so  real  to  the  girl's  warm  heart 
was  the  grief  for  the  death  of  her  aunt,  of 
whom  she  had  been  so  fond.  But  when  spring 
came,  she  yielded  to  the  desire  of  the  Baroness 
that  she  should  lay  aside  her  mourning,  and 
they  turned  their  steps  toward  Paris,  the 
Mecca  for  all  wardrobe-seeking  femininity. 

When  back  again  in  Nice,  it  was  not  long 
before  they  were  in  the  full  whirl  of  the 
gaieties,  so  glad  were  their  friends  to  wel 
come  them  once  more.  It  was  just  before  the 
Carnival  and  the  season  was  at  its  height. 

Dick  was  there,  and  Philip  with  him.  They 
had  been  in  Nice  for  nearly  two  years  now,  as 
Dick  had  several  contracts  for  erecting  new 

161 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

buildings  in  and  about  Nice,  and  Philip  had 
remained  with  him,  glad  of  the  pretext  that 
allowed  him  to  be  near  Sylvia. 

One  evening,  as  Philip  entered  Dick's  room 
in  the  hotel,  he  found  him  opening  a  package 
which  had  just  come  from  America. 

"Look  at  this,  Philip,"  he  said.  "Leigh 
Dunlop  has  just  returned  home,  you  know,  and 
he  has  sent  me  this.  A  new  book,  and  who 
do  you  think  is  the  author?  Eric  Fielding, 
by  Jove!  Leigh  writes  that  it  has  been  out 
since  last  summer,  but  he  had  not  seen  it  until 
his  return." 

Philip  took  the  book  and  turned  over  a  few 
pages. 

"  It  seems  to  be  a  story  of  Egypt,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  Leigh  writes  that  Eric  had  it  pub 
lished  last  July,  then  left  immediately  for 
Egypt  to  be  gone  for  an  indefinite  period.  He 
is  supposed  to  be  looking  up  some  new  data. 
He  has  evidently  gone  Egypt  mad.  Think 
of  our  old  friend  Eric  having  become  a  liter- 

162 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

ary  man !  Leigh  writes  that  every  one  is  crazy 
over  this  book,  and  says  it  is  the  best  one  that 
has  been  written  for  years,  the  style  is  so  su 
perb.  I  think  that  I  shall  sit  down  and  read 
it  at  once." 

"  But  you  are  all  dressed  for  the  ball  at  the 
Baroness'/'  said  Philip. 

"  And  the  Countess'/'  added  Dick,  looking 
at  Philip  and  smiling.  "  You  start  on,  if  you 
want  to,  and  I  will  join  you  later." 

Philip  reached  the  ball  at  about  nine.  He 
found  the  Baroness  in  one  of  the  ball-rooms 
talking  to  the  few  guests  who  had  already  ar 
rived,  but  he  did  not  see  Sylvia.  He  went  up 
to  the  Baroness  and  stood  near  her  a  few 
moments,  wondering  where  Sylvia  could  be. 
His  glance  wandered  about  the  room  and 
through  the  open  doors.  Outside  he  could  see 
the  lanterns  hanging  on  the  trees  and  a  num 
ber  of  small  tables  and  chairs  on  the  lawn 
where  the  supper  was  to  be  served.  Suddenly 
he  saw  the  dainty  white-clad  figure  for  which 

163 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

his  eyes  were  seeking.  He  hurried  out  to  join 
her. 

"  May  I  come  out  with  you  ?  "  he  asked  as  he 
drew  near  Sylvia. 

"  Yes,  surely,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "  I 
should  be  in  there,  I  suppose,  but  as  so  few 
have  come  as  yet,  I  thought  I  would  slip  out 
here  and  see  that  everything  was  in  order. 
You  can  help  me  with  a  critical  eye." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  criticise,"  he  said,  "  it 
is  all  so  perfect."  He  was  looking  at  her  with 
such  an  adoring  glance,  that  the  colour  came 
to  her  cheeks,  for  she  could  not  help  reading 
what  was  in  his  eyes. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  pleasanter  to  have 
supper  served  out  here  under  the  trees,  than 
in  the  dining-room  ?  "  asked  Sylvia. 

"  Oh,  very  much,"  replied  Philip,  looking 
about  at  the  scene  admiringly. 

"  Over  in  that  grove,"  went  on  Sylvia, 
where  the  tables  are  too  far  from  the  house  for 
the  people  to  hear  the  orchestra,  I  have  a  harp 

164 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

and  two  violins.  They  haven't  begun  yet.  I 
suppose  they  are  waiting  until  eleven,  when 
supper  will  be  served.  But  let's  go  over  and 
have  them  play  now.  I  like  a  harp  and  two 
violins  more  than  a  full  orchestra." 

They  went  over  to  the  grove,  and  at  a  word 
from  the  Countess  the  men  began  playing. 
They  were  masters  of  their  instruments,  and 
the  music  was  far  better  than  that  ordinarily 
heard  at  a  ball. 

"  We  will  sit  here  just  a  moment  to  listen, 
if  you  like,"  said  Sylvia,  "  then  I  shall  have 
to  go  back  to  the  house." 

They  sat  at  one  of  the  little  empty  tables. 
Philip  leaned  across  and  spoke. 

"  Sylvia,  may  I  tell  you  what  I  think?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  answered. 

"  I  think  you  are  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  the  whole  world.  A  man  would  be  willing 
to  die  for  a  gracious  few  moments  such  as  you 
are  giving  me  now.  When  I  see  you  as  I  do 
to-night,  I  realise  more  than  ever  the  utter  im- 

165 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

possibility  of  giving  up  hope  of  some  day  win 
ning  you.  While  I  live  I  must  love  you, 
while  your  heart  is  free,  I  must  hope  that  some 
day  you  may  learn  to  love  me." 

"  Oh,  pray  do  not,  Philip.  Believe  me,  I 
have  answered  you  once  and  for  always.  Your 
friendship  is  so  much  to  me,  but  believe  me, 
that  is  all  there  can  ever  be." 

"  I  know  you  think  so  now,"  he  answered, 
"  but  until  you  tell  me  yourself  you  love  some 
one  else,  I  will  not  give  up  hope." 

"  I  cannot  prevent  your  hoping,"  said  Sylvia, 
"  but  truly,  it  is  useless.  But  I  must  go  back 
to  the  house  now,  Philip ;  will  you  come  ?  " 

When  they  reached  the  house,  many  more 
guests  had  arrived,  so  that  Philip  lost  track  of 
Sylvia  and  tried  to  content  himself  with  wan 
dering  about  the  different  rooms,  watching 
the  dancers,  or  walking  up  and  down  on  one 
of  the  terraces  outside.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  to  ask  any  of  the  other  women  there  to 
dance — perhaps  if  he  had  seen  any  of  them 

1 66 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

who  lacked  partners,  he  might  have  remem 
bered  his  duty,  but  there  seemed  to  be  none  of 
this  kind,  so  he  felt  himself  free  to  wander 
about  alone  with  his  dreams. 

The  villa  was  a  comparatively  new  one. 
Sylvia's  father  had  built  it  for  her  upon  her 
joining  him  in  Italy  after  her  mother's  death. 
They  had  at  first  stayed  in  Florence  on  her 
father's  estate  there,  but  Sylvia  had  taken  a 
great  fancy  to  Nice,  and  longed  to  make  that 
her  home.  She  liked  Americans  much  more 
than  Italians,  and  in  Nice  she  knew  she  would 
meet  many  of  them.  Her  father  had  been  very 
fond  and  proud  of  this,  his  only  child,  and  as 
he  had  great  ambitions  for  her  as  well  as  the 
wealth  to  carry  out  any  plan  he  formed,  he 
built  the  villa  in  the  most  superb  style.  The 
gardens  were  like  Fairy-land,  and  surpassed  in 
beauty  almost  any  that  could  be  found  even  in 
that  land  of  flowers.  The  house  itself  was  im 
mense,  though  only  of  two  stories.  The  first 
contained  several  large  salons  for  dancing, 

167 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

three  drawing  rooms  for  smaller  entertain 
ments,  a  huge  library  whose  walls  were  cov 
ered  with  books,  and  whose  windows  formed 
alcoves  with  cushioned  seats,  the  cosiest  of 
places,  inviting  a  lover  of  books  to  spend  a 
rainy  morning  or  even  a  whole  day  in  their 
luxuriant  seclusion.  There  were  three  dining- 
rooms,  a  large  one  for  dinner  parties,  a  small 
one  for  use  when  the  family  was  alone,  and 
then  a  pretty  little  breakfast-room  furnished 
in  blue  delf.  On  the  floor  above  were  the 
sleeping  chambers.  There  were  two  wings  to 
the  villa,  one,  where  the  kitchen  was  placed, 
above  which  were  the  servants'  quarters.  The 
other  wing  contained  only  one  room,  a  long 
one,  more  like  a  gallery  than  anything  else. 
This  was  Sylvia's  own  private  sanctuary,  and 
was  never  entered  by  any  one  else  unless  at  her 
express  invitation.  It  was  called  the  picture 
gallery  because  of  the  family  portraits  which 
hung  on  its  walls.  The  room  was  hung  with 
tapestry  on  the  walls  between  the  portraits, 

1 68 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

rugs  lay  on  the  polished  floor,  and  there  were 
many  low  ottomans  and  window  seats.  One 
window,  opening  on  a  balcony  overlooking  the 
garden,  was  placed  so  high  in  the  wall  that  a 
short  flight  of  steps  was  necessary  to  reach  it. 
On  tables  and  shelves  lay  Sylvia's  collection  of 
gifts  from  different  friends,  or  knick-knacks 
that  she  had  picked  up  at  different  places  her 
self.  She  was  very  fond  of  collecting  these 
things,  and  there  was  a  sentiment  connected 
with  each  one.  On  one  table  lay  her  violin, 
the  dearest  of  all  her  treasures.  And  about 
the  whole  apartment  hung  the  indefinable 
charm  that  belongs  to  the  favoured  room  of  a 
young  girl  with  artistic  taste  and  unlimited 
wealth  to  gratify  it. 

In  the  mean  time,  Dick  had  seated  himself  in 
a  comfortable  chair  and  read  the  book  through. 
It  took  him  only  about  three  hours,  though  it 
was  rather  a  long  book,  but  he  was  a  very 
rapid  reader. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  said,  as  he  arose  and  put  on 

169 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

his  overcoat,  slipping  the  volume  in  his  pocket. 
"  That  is  mighty  clever.  I  did  not  know  dear 
old  Eric  had  it  in  him.  I  wish  I  could  do  some 
thing  of  this  kind  instead  of  drudging  along 
planning  buildings.  I  will  take  it  to  Sylvia,  I 
fancy  she  would  like  it." 

But  when  he  reached  the  villa,  it  was  nearly 
midnight;  the  ball  was  at  its  height,  and  leav 
ing  his  coat  and  hat  in  the  dressing-room  Dick 
completely  forgot  the  book  and  carried  it  back 
with  him  when  he  went  home. 


170 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


PHILIP  had  had  one  d,ance  with  Sylvia,  but 
dared  not  ask  for  another,  realising  how  many 
of  her  other  guests  wanted  her,  and  he  had 
been  wandering  aimlessly  about  for  some  time, 
when  he  caught  sight  of  Dick  who  had  just 
come  in.  He  hurried  over  and  joined  him. 

'  You  seem  relieved  to  see  me,"  said  Dick. 
"  What  is  the  matter,  has  the  fair  lady  been 
cold?" 

"  No,"  said  Philip,  a  shade  of  annoyance 
passing  over  his  face,"  she  has  been  as  kind 
as  ever,  only  I  have  felt  I  should  not  bother 
her  much.  Naturally  at  her  own  house  she  has 
so  many  to  think  of." 

"  True,"  said  Dick.  "  I  won't  bother  her 
either,  but  we  will  stand  together  and  watch 
her  from  afar." 

"  Why  is  it  that  you  always  seem  to  be 
laughing  at  me?  "  asked  Philip.  "  Do  I  wear 
my  heart  on  my  sleeve  and  make  a  fool  of  my- 

171 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

self  over  her?  You  know  I  love  her,  and  na 
turally  she  knows  it,  I  have  told  her  so  many 
times,  and  of  course  I  suppose  I  do  show  it,  but 
does  every  one  see  it  as  you  do — and  laugh  at 
me?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Dick,  "  and  I  really 
do  not  laugh  at  you.  I  am  amused,  of  course, 
but  I  am  sure  others  are  not ;  they  are  so  used 
to  believing  every  man  in  love  with  la  bella 
Sylvia,  that  they  think  nothing  of  it." 

"  Then  you  think  every  one  sees  that  I  am  ? 
I  had  not  meant  they  should.  I  certainly  never 
speak  of  her  to  any  one  except  you." 

"  I  know  that,  my  dear  boy,  but  it  is  merely 
that  you  are  so  far  gone,  it  would  be  impossi 
ble  for  you  to  hide  it.  When  a  man  has  given 
his  whole  heart  to  a  woman,  unless  he  is  very 
cautious,  every  one  knows  it.  Do  you  ever 
dance  with  any  of  these  other  girls?  Do  you 
ever  call  on  them,  unless  you  owe  them  a  duty 
call?  Do  you  ever  take  them  driving,  or  to 
the  theatre,  or  show  them  attentions  of  any  de- 

172     • 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

scription  ?  Do  you  ever  do  anything  more  than 
bow  to  them,  or  speak  a  few  words  of  greeting 
when  you  happen  to  meet  them  ?  Do  you  ever 
look  at  them  a  second  time,  or  know  that  they 
are  in  the  same  room  with  you,  or  even  notice 
that  they  exist  ?  No ;  you  never  do  any  of  these 
things.  They  perhaps  notice  you,  and  would 
like  to  know  you,  you  are  good  looking  and 
wealthy — two  qualities  sure  of  bringing  a 
flutter  to  the  feminine  heart — but  these  facts 
are  of  no  avail  to  the  poor  outcasts,  you  are 
as  unconscious  of  their  presence  as  if  they  were 
so  many  leaves  on  a  tree.  Your  whole  time, 
your  thoughts,  your  words  and  your  eyes  are 
taken  up  with  one,  and  one  only — Sylvia.  Is 
this  not  true?  " 

"Yes,"  admitted  Philip. 

"  Ah,  you  acknowledge  the  truth  of  my 
statement.  Well,  then,  admitting  these  facts, 
can  you  really  blame  the  world  for  imagining 
you  admire  the  Countess,  to  put  it  mildly  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Philip,  "  but 

1/3 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

just  the  same,  1  do  not  care  to  have  all  the 
world  read  my  story." 

"  Then  remodel  yourself,  old  man,  and  be 
come  cautious.  Hide  your  feelings,  do  not 
stand  about  like  a  lost  soul  when  the 
Countess  happens  to  be  led  into  the  next  room 
by  her  partner,  out  of  your  range  of  vision. 
Cease  hurrying  excitedly  about  to  find  where 
she  is  and  whom  she  is  with  when  you  have 
perchance  for  a  moment  lost  sight  of  her. 
Shake  off  that  deep  melancholy  into  which  you 
fall  when  you  are  forced  to  face  the  inevitable 
— when  she  has  gone  in  to  supper  with  another 
man,  and  you  cannot  possibly  approach  her  or 
watch  her  for  at  least  half  an  hour!  Do 
not " 

"  Oh,  enough,  enough ! "  cried  Philip. 
"  You  can  always  manage  to  hit  the  nail  on  the 
head,  but  be  satisfied  with  that,  do  not  drive 
it  in.  I  admit  I  am  a  fool,  madly  in  love  with 
a  girl  who  does  not  care  a  bit  for  me — but  let 
every  one  see  it — I  do  not  care.  It  would  be 

174 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

impossible  for  me  to  do  differently.  Why, 
shouldn't  a  fellow  act  as  he  feels?  They  may 
laugh  at  me  if  they  like." 

"  I  repeat  that  they  do  not  laugh  at  you," 
said  Dick  seriously.  "  They  may  see  that  you 
are  in  love,  but  they  do  not  laugh.  Why  should 
they?  As  I  said,  they  are  used  to  it — all  the 
other  men " 

:'  Yes,  the  others  too,"  said  Philip,  gloomily, 
"  why  torture  me  by  reminding  me  of  all  those 
others?" 

"  I  did  not  mean  it  as  a  torture,  I  merely 
meant  that  your  case  is  only  a  natural  one. 
There  is  no  reason  for  you  to  feel  unhappy  at 
the  thought  of  the  others.  Can't  you  see  that 
she  does  not  favour  them  any  more  than  she 
does  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Philip,  troubled. 
"  She  is  very  good  to  me,  I  know,  but  some 
times  I  fear  she  likes  some  of  them.  Ah,  look 
at  her  now,  look  at  the  man  with  whom  she  is 
dancing.  See  the  bewitching  smile  she  gives 

175 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

him,  she  is  whispering  something  to  him,  she 
smiles  and  talks  to  them  all  that  way.  Oh,  it 
is  maddening !  " 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,  why  shouldn't  she  ? 
It  is  her  nature  to  be  generous,  and  surely  if 
she  must  talk  to  them,  you  would  not  want  her 
to  frown  upon  them  ?  " 

"  But  why  need  she  look  at  them  that  way? 
There  is  a  world  of  warmth  in  one  of  her 
glances." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  muttered  Dick. 

"  And  I  would  to  Heaven,"  went  on  Philip 
not  having  heard,  "  that  she  would  give  them 
all  to  me.  I  am  jealous  of  her  very  smiles  and 
glances.  Look  at  Lord  Raleigh;  they  have 
stopped  dancing,  and  he  has  her  bouquet,  he  is 
looking  as  if  he  owned  her,  he  seems  supremely 
happy — he  has  no  right.  He  is  your  cousin; 
you  know  about  his  chances,  do  you  not,  she 
will  not  take  him?  " 

"  No,  she  will  not  take  him,  poor  fellow," 
said  Dick.  "  He  has  wanted  her  even  longer 

176 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

than  you  have,  but  I  am  sure  he  has  no 
chance." 

"Thank  God,"  said  Philip.  He  had  im 
plicit  faith  in  Dick's  judgment.  "  And  what 
do  you  think  of  Prince  Paul  of  Rome?  He 
met  her  in  Switzerland  last  summer,  and  has 
been  intruding  himself  ever  since." 

"  He  really  is  your  most  formidable  rival," 
said  Dick  cruelly.  "  He  is  one  of  the  wealthiest 
princes  of  Italy,  outside  of  the  blood  royal. 
And  you  can  see  how  good-looking  he  is,  and 
they  say  he  has  a  very  fascinating  way  with 
women."  Dick  looked  at  Philip,  he  knew  he 
was  teasing  him,  but  the  look  on  Philip's  face 
made  him  suddenly  cease  to  enjoy  the  sport. 
"  But  listen  to  me,  Philip,  she  will  not  take  the 
Prince,  she  will  never  care  for  him,  nor  any  of 
these  men.  They  are  all  fine  fellows,  but  mark 
my  words,  when  Sylvia  falls  in  love  it  will  be 
with  an  American.  Though  she  lives  here  in 
France  and  in  Italy,  and  though  most  of  these 
people  are  Europeans,  her  heart  is  American. 

177 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

Her  mother  was  American.  Sylvia  was  born 
and  reared  there,  and  if  she  ever  marries, 
she  will  choose  one  of  our  countrymen.  Her 
taste  has  always  been  of  the  best,  and  she  will 
surely  use  it  when  she  decides  to  marry.  There 
fore,  old  man,  cheer  up,  your  chances  are 
greater  than  any  of  these." 

Philip's  face  brightened,  he  looked  at  Dick 
gratefully. 

"  You  are  a  brick,"  he  said.  "  You  can  make 
a  fellow  feel  as  if  he  really  had  some  chance, 
and  by  Jove,  I  will  not  give  up  until  I  see  her 
married  to  another  man !  " 

"  That  is  right,  old  fellow,  a  girl  likes  per 
sistency  in  a  man  more  than  almost  anything 
else.  Never  grow  discouraged,  and  I  think  you 
may  win  her." 

"  But  I  must  leave  you  now,"  continued 
Dick,  "  for  I  am  hungry.  I  am  going  to  find 
some  one  and  ask  her  to  go  to  supper  with  me." 

Philip  went  across  the  room  and  stepped  out 
on  to  the  verandah.  He  saw  Sylvia  coming 

178 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

up  the  steps  with  Lord  Raleigh.  Apparently 
they  had  been  for  a  little  stroll  after  their 
dance.  Philip  went  over  and  spoke  to  her. 

"  May  I  have  this  dance?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

As  Philip  glided  about  to  the  soft  strains  of 
the  waltz,  with  Sylvia  so  near  him  that  her 
breath  fanned  his  cheek,  and  he  was  conscious 
of  the  fragrance  of  the  violets  in  her  hair,  it 
seemed  as  if  he  lived  but  for  moments  'Such  as 
these,  and  that  his  every  thought  should  be  one 
of  gratitude  that  he  was  allowed  this  much,  and 
that  he  should  be  humbly  satisfied. 

But  when  he  had  to  leave  her,  and  she  was 
taken  off  on  the  arm  of  another  man,  these 
feelings  left  him,  and  he  was  filled  again  with 
a  deep  melancholy,  and  a  jealous  envy  of  all 
those  others  who  claimed  as  much  as  he  did, 
and  his  heart  was  hungry  for  the  impossible. 


179 


CHAPTER  XIX 


FINALLY  the  ball  was  over,  the  last  guest 
had  reluctantly  taken  his  departure,  the  music 
had  ceased,  and  a  deep  stillness  reigned.  It 
was  after  four  o'clock,  and  the  sun  had  begun 
to  rise.  Sylvia  went  over  to  her  window  a 
moment  and  stood  watching  the  sun  mounting 
above  the  trees.  She  drew  in  a  deep  breath  of 
the  pure  morning  air. 

"  After  all,"  she  whispered,  "  it  is  a  beauti 
ful  world.  I  must  be  happy  in  having  so  many 
good  friends.  Why  does  Philip  love  me? 
Why  does  Lord  Raleigh  and  the  Prince  and — 
oh,  why  is  it  ?  I  do  not  encourage  them,  do  I  ? 
And  why  do  they  begin  in  the  first  place  ?  Whv 
should  they  love  me  instead  of  some  other 
girl?  I  am  sorry  that  they  do — and  yet — and 
yet — "  an  adorable  little  smile  crept  over  her 
face,  "  what  girl  could  help  being  a  little  glad 
too,  that  they  should  ?  It  is  ?ood  to  be  loved ! 

I  So 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

Oh,  I  fear  that  I  am  not  very  sorry  that  they 
do." 

She  turned  and  went  over  to  the  bed,  and 
fell  into  a  deep  slumber,  from  which  she  did 
not  wake  until  long  after  noon. 

She  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  across  at  the 
little  clock  on  her  dressing-table. 

"  Three  o'clock !  Dear  me,  how  very  very, 
lazy  I  am !  "  She  rang  a  bell  to  summon  her 
maid. 

"  Jeannette,  no  one  has  called  yet,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Jeannette. 

"  Good,  I  am  not  expecting  anybody,  but  I 
shouldn't  like  to  have  any  one  come  and  have 
to  be  told  that  I  am  still  in  bed.  Has  Aunt 
Lucia  come  down-stairs?  " 

"  No,  not  yet." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  hurry,  I  have  slept  quite 
long  enough." 

When  Sylvia  was  dressed,  she  went  down 
stairs  and  wandered  from  room  to  room  to  see 
if  the  house  was  restored  to  order.  Her  serv- 

181 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

ants  were  well  trained  and  had  done  their  work 
so  thoroughly  that  not  a  trace  of  the  gaieties 
of  the  night  before  could  be  seen,  everything 
was  in  as  perfect  order  as  if  there  had  been  no 
ball.  Sylvia  went  to  her  picture  gallery  and 
closed  the  door.  She  took  up  her  violin  and 
began  to  play.  She  rarely  let  a  day  pass  with 
out  coming  there  and  spending  an  hour  or  two 
playing  her  beloved  instrument.  She  went 
over  one  air  after  another  and  finally  Werner's 
Farewell — but  she  laid  the  instrument  down, 
for  her  hands  had  begun  to  tremble,  and  the 
notes  would  not  come. 

"  Oh,  can  I  never  play  it  through  without 
— without " 

She  went  over  to  a  low  ottoman  and  threw 
herself  down,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  Dearest,"  she  whispered,  "  will  you  never 
come?  Am  I  never  to  meet  you  again?  I 
know  not  where  you  are,  I  have  not  heard  of 
you  or  from  you  for  two  long  weary  years,  and 
even  when  I  did  see  you  out  there  in  California, 

182 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

you  did  not  care  for  me.  After  you  went  away 
you  forgot  me  entirely,  I  am  sure  of  it,  for,  a 
man  who  cared,  even  a  little,  would  have  come 
back,  and  you  never  came.  To  think  that  after 
all,  I  love  a  man  who  cares  nothing  for  me !  Is 
it  love?  Ah,  yes,  I  know  it  is,  for  never  has 
it  ceased,  although  I  have  tried  and  tried  to 
forget,  but  it  has  remained  with  me  in  spite  of 
myself.  Every  day  and  every  night  it  haunts 
me,  no  matter  where  I  go,  no  matter  what  I 
do  or  think,  underneath  everything  is  this  love, 
burning,  burning,  like  a  bed  of  coals,  some 
times  blazing  up,  sometimes  only  smouldering, 
but  never  going  out.  For  the  men  who  love 
women  in  vain,  Heaven  have  pity,  for  they 
deserve  it,  I  know  how  they  suffer." 

She  arose  quickly,  pushing  back  the  hair 
from  her  forehead. 

"  I  will  not  allow  myself  to  be  miserable," 
she  said  defiantly.  "  I  have  too  many  blessings 
for  that — I  will  count  them — oh,  there  are  so 
many.  God  is  very  good  to  me,  even  if  He  does 

183 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

not  bring  him  to  me.  I  am  nothing  but  a  child 
— as  Eric  called  me — to  cry  thus,  and  a  foolish 
one.  It  was  the  music,  it  stirs  me  so.  And 
that  song  above  all  others,  how  it  brings  back 
those  days  in  California  when  I  played  for  him. 
No  one  has  ever  heard  me  play  since — and  no 
one  shall.  I  have  promised  him  in  my  heart 
that  I  will  never  play  for  any  one  until  he  comes, 
and  I  can  play  for  him.  And  if  he  does  not 
come,  if  the  song  is  true — '  God  guard  thee, 
dear,  it  was  too  fair  a  dream,  God  guard  thee, 
dear,  it  cannot,  cannot  be,'  if  the  song  is  true 
— oh,  Heaven  have  mercy." 

She  forgot  her  determination  for  a  second, 
then  she  remembered,  and  shut  her  eyes  tightly 
to  force  back  the  tears. 

"  It  is  the  song,"  she  said,  "  when  I  think 
of  it,  I  am  weak — but  I  will  not  be — see — I 
will  play  it  through — entirely  through,  and  not 
stop  once  or  let  one  tear  come.  I  shall  finish 
it  triumphantly  with  a  smile." 

She  picked  up  her  violin  again  and  began 

184 


An  AMERICAN   COUNTESS 

playing  it.  She  played  it  with  a  fire  and  pas 
sion  that  she  had  never  before  shown,  and 
when  she  had  finished,  she  was  smiling  vic 
toriously. 

"  If  one  has  the  will,  one  can  do  anything," 
she  said  delightedly. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Sylvia 
opened  it  and  saw  her  aunt  standing  there. 

"  I  thought  I  would  find  you  here,  dear," 
she  said.  "  You  foolish  child,  why  did  you 
rise  so  early?  " 

"  Oh,  but  I  did  not,  auntie,  I  have  only  been 
here  a  few  moments." 

"  Then  I  feel  better.  I  was  afraid  you  had 
been  up  for  hours,  and  so  cheated  yourself  of 
your  rest  to  come  in  here  to  practise.  I  can 
not  understand  why  you  will  spend  so  much 
time  practising,  when  you  have  given  up  play 
ing  for  any  of  us.  But  I  must  not  forget  what 
I  came  for.  Dick  is  here  to  take  you  to  drive, 
and  I  told  him  I  would  try  to  find  you." 

"  I  will  come,"  said  Sylvia. 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

Dick  was  waiting  for  her  on  the  piazza;  he 
had  left  his  horses  with  the  groom. 

"  Will  you  go  with  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  should  love  to  go." 

"  Good.  And,  oh,  by  the  way,  I  have  some 
thing  here  for  you.  It  is  something  I  liked 
very  much  and  wanted  you  to  have." 

He  handed  her  Eric's  book. 

As  she  glanced  at  it  and  saw  whose  name 
was  on  the  cover,  she  stood  very  still  for  a 
moment,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe  for  fear 
Dick  would  observe  her  agitation,  for  he  was 
very  quick  at  noticing  everything.  She  opened 
it  and  turned  over  a  few  pages  and  said  in  a 
steady  voice : 

"  It  looks  very  attractive,  thank  you  so  much, 
I  shall  be  ever  so  glad  to  read  it." 

"  I  like  it  for  two  reasons,"  said  Dick. 
"  First,  it  is  a  very  good  story,  and  second,  I 
know  the  author,  he  is  an  old  friend  of  mine, 
so  of  course  I  take  an  unusual  interest  in  his 
book." 

1 86 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  You  know  the  author  ?  "  asked  Sylvia,  try 
ing  to  say  it  calmly  and  naturally.  "  How  in 
teresting,  what  is  he  like?" 

"  He  is  one  of  the  finest  fellows  I  know," 
said  Dick,  enthusiastically.  "  He  is  magnifi 
cent,  morally,  mentally  and  physically." 

"  Oh,"  said  Sylvia,  "  you  make  me  wish 
that  I  knew  him." 

''  You  would  like  him,  I  feel  sure.  If  he  ever 
comes  here,  I  will  be  sure  to  introduce  him  to 
you,  if  I  may.  I  should  like  him  to  know  you. 
But  just  now  he  has  buried  himself  in  Egypt." 

"  Egypt !  "  she  exclaimed,  involuntarily  giv 
ing  a  little  start,  which  fortunately  Dick  did 
not  observe.  "  Why  there  ?  " 

"  His  book  is  about  Egypt,  and  I  fancy  he 
wants  to  learn  more  of  the  country  for  his  next 
book.  He  will  probably  go  on  writing  more; 
he  is  not  the  kind  of  fellow  to  be  satisfied  with 
a  beginning.  I  think  he  will  keep  on  until  he 
proves  himself,  if  not  a  genius,  at  least  great. 
I  believe  his  name  will  some  day  be  famous, 

187 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

even  this  book  should  do  that  for  him.  But 
can  we  go  now?  it  is  already  growing  a  little 
late." 

"  Yes,  I  will  get  my  hat  and  be  down 
directly." 

She  left  him  and  hurried  up  to  her  room. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  joyously,  "  I  have  some 
thing  of  his — his — at  last !  And  I  have  heard 
something  of  him,  oh,  was  ever  any  one  as 
happy  as  I  am  ?  "  She  looked  at  the  book  de 
vouringly,  and  pressed  it  lovingly  to  her  lips, 
then  laid  it  on  her  dressing-table. 

"  When  I  come  back  from  the  drive,"  she 
said,  "  I  will  read  you  entirely  through." 

Sylvia  liked  Dick  very  much  and  always  en 
joyed  driving  with  him.  The  afternoon  air 
was  fresh  and  exhilarating,  and  his  conversation 
was  interesting,  as  always,  but  this  afternoon  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  he  were  taking  her  for  an 
unusually  long  drive,  and  his  voice  sounded 
dim  and  far  away.  She  scarcely  knew  what  he 
was  saying,  though  she  tried  to  answer  him 

1 88 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

rationally.  But  she  could  think  of  nothing 
but  the  book  which  lay  at  home  in  her  own 
room — his  book,  and  now  hers. 

When  at  last  Dick  drew  up  before  her  house 
and  bade  her  good-bye,  she  for  the  first  time 
realised  what  he  was  saying,  and  she  threw 
much  more  ardour  than  was  necessary  in  her 
thanks  for  the  drive,  for  in  her  heart  she 
was  thanking  him  for  at  last  bringing  her 
home. 

She  ran  up  the  stairs  and  flew  into  her  own 
room  like  a  small  whirlwind.  Yes,  there  it 
lay,  just  where  she  had  left  it.  She  caught  it 
up  and  hurried  over  to  a  divan. 

"  Ah,  this  book  is  sweeter  than  any  of  my 
dreams,"  she  said.  "  I  never  supposed  he 
would  write  a  book — but  he  has — God  bless 
him — and  I  have  it  here.  Every  single  word  is 
his  very  own.  And  there  is  his  dear  name 
printed  out  on  the  cover,  and  there  is  the  pub 
lisher's  name  to  whom  he  took  it,  with  '  New 
York '  underneath.  At  last  I  have  a  part  of 

189 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

him.  I  can  read  it  over  and  over  and  learn 
each  word  by  heart  and  make  it  a  part  of  my 
self.  I  can  know  him  so  much  better  by  know 
ing  his  book." 

It  was  half-past  five  when  she  began  to 
read,  and  the  time  slipped  quickly  by  until  a 
rap  at  the  door  interrupted  her. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said. 

It  was  a  maid  to  announce  dinner. 

"  It  is  seven  o'clock,  Mademoiselle,"  she  said, 
"  and  the  Baroness  wished  me  to  tell  you  that 
she  awaits  you  in  the  library,  as  dinner  is 
served." 

"Dinner?  Oh,  I  had  forgotten.  There  is 
no  company  to-night,  is  there?"  she  asked, 
jumping  up  and  looking  down  at  her  gown, 
wondering  if  it  would  do." 

"  No,  Mademoiselle." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  will  come  down  at 
once." 

At  dinner  her  aunt  was  talking  to  her,  but 
Sylvia  answered  vaguely. 


190 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  What  is  so  absorbing  your  thoughts  ?  " 
asked  the  Baroness  at  last.  "  I  have  asked  you 
several  questions,  and  you  have  given  me  the 
most  unsatisfactory  answers.  I  think  you  must 
be  in  the  clouds." 

"  I  am,"  said  Sylvia,  laughing.  "  I  have 
been  reading  a  book — an  interesting  one.  I  am 
full  of  it." 

"  Oh,  that  explains  it,"  said  her  aunt.  "  I 
wish  I  could  get  as  interested  in  reading  as  you 
can,  child.  But  the  Italian  literature  has  little 
attraction  for  me,  nor  has  the  English  either, 
for  that  matter.  I  presume  this  is  English,  is 
it  not?  I  never  saw  you  so  overcome  by  any 
thing  that  was  Italian." 

"American!"  exclaimed   Sylvia,  proudly. 

"  Oh !  "  the  Baroness  frowned  a  little.  "  You 
are  crazy  over  your  America.  Even  its  liter 
ature  eclipses  all  that  of  our  country — and  the 
Americans  themselves — I  believe  you  care  more 
for  one  of  those  American  gentlemen — Mr. 
Monroe,  for  instance — than  you  do  for  all  the 


191 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

Italians,  the  French  and  the  English  who  adore 
you." 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia,  "I  like  Philip  better 
than  all  the  others  put  together.  He  is  an 
American,  and  he  lives  in  New  York — in  New 
York — ah,  you  do  not  know  New  York  ?  Well, 
neither  do  I,  as  I  have  merely  passed  through 
there,  but  I  know  it  is  a  beautiful  city." 

Her  aunt  gave  a  little  sigh.  Her  niece  was 
too  much  of  a  puzzle  to  her.  How,  when  she 
had  all  these  Europeans  at  her  feet,  men  of  title 
and  estates,  she  could  prefer  a  simple  American, 
was  more  than  the  Baroness  could  understand, 
and  occasionally  she  felt  grieved  that  it  should 
be  so,  for  she  was  herself  every  inch  an  Italian 
and  could  not  share  her  niece's  feelings  in  the 
least.  But  she  had  learned  the  lesson  of  toler 
ance,  and  she  never  complained  that  this  should 
be  so.  She  did  not  complain — but  merely 
sighed  on  occasions. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  finished,  Sylvia 
hurried  back  to  her  room.  She  finished  the 


1 92 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

volume  and  closed  it  with  a  deep  sigh  of  satis 
faction.  "  It  is  beautiful,"  she  said,  "  mar 
vellous,  I  love  it — every  word.  How  strange 
that  the  Princess  should  have  hair  like  mine — 
and  eyes  like  mine.  Ah,  I  am  glad,  for  he  must 
like  that  kind!" 


193 


CHAPTER  XX 


THREE  years  had  passed  since  Eric  had  come 
to  Egypt.  He  had  written  more  books  and 
sent  them  home  to  his  publishers.  Only  occa 
sionally  had  he  stopped  in  Cairo  or  Alexandria, 
and  then  but  for  a  few  days  at  a  time,  for  he 
had  not  wanted  to  be  with  people.  He  wanted 
to  wander  about  alone,  keeping  in  the  world 
of  literature  by  the  books  which  he  had  sent  to 
him  from  time  to  time.  He  had  pitched  a  tent 
at  the  edge  of  the  desert,  stayed  in  some  lonely, 
out-of-the-way  hamlet,  wandered  about  near 
the  Pyramids,  studied  ancient  ruins  and 
tombs,  had  ridden  camels  and  horses,  anything 
to  be  away  from  people  and  near  to  Nature. 

He  did  not  try  to  forget  his  love,  he  knew 
that  he  could  never  do  that,  if  he  should  try 
with  all  his  strength,  and  he  did  not  wish  to 
forget,  for  he  had  faith  that  he  might  join 
Barbara  when  death  should  be  kind  enough  to 
take  him.  Not  that  he  longed  for  death,  or  was 

194 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

seeking  it,  he  was  too  manly  to  do  that,  he 
wanted  to  do  good  work  in  the  world,  and  as 
it  was  right  that  he  should  live,  he  did  not 
allow  himself  to  be  melancholy.  But  time 
made  no  difference  to  his  heart.  Barbara  was 
still  to  him  as  she  had  been  from  the  beginning, 
a  living  presence,  the  only  woman  he  had  ever 
loved,  and  passing  years  made  him  realise 
afresh  that  she  was  the  only  woman  he  could 
love. 

But  as  time  passed,  he  again  had  a  desire  to 
see  his  sister  and  his  old  friends.  Rumours 
had  come  to  him  on  the  few  occasions  when 
he  had  stopped  in  one  of  the  cities,  that  his 
books  had  succeeded  far  beyond  his  greatest 
hopes,  and  it  was  only  human  that  he  should 
want  to  go  back  and  see  if  this  was  true.  So 
he  returned.  He  went  directly  to  his  sister, 
who  was  living  at  Nice.  He  did  not  let  her 
know  of  his  coming,  but  walked  in  on  her  one 
afternoon  as  she  sat  in  her  cool,  dimly-lighted 
library.  His  tall  form  filled  the  doorway  and 

'95 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

she  looked  up,  not  recognising  him  at  first,  the 
light  was  so  dim,  the  blinds  being  closed  to 
keep  out  the  warm  June  air.  When  she  did 
finally  discover  that  it  was  her  brother,  she 
hurried  over  to  him  with  a  delighted  cry. 

"  Eric,  my  dear,  dear  boy,"  she  said,  "  you 
— of  all  people !  It  does  my  heart  good  to  see 
you.  Mercy,  how  long  it  is  since  I  have!  " 

They  spent  all  the  afternoon  asking  and 
answering  the  many  questions  that  came  to 
each  of  them  after  their  long  separation. 
When  they  were  at  the  dinner  table,  Miss 
Fielding  said, 

"  I  think  Nice  is  delightful,  there  are  such 
charming  people  here,  and  so  many  Americans. 
Two  very  good  friends  of  yours  are  here,  and 
have  been  for  several  years,  Dick  Ames  and 
Philip  Monroe." 

"  Good !  "  said  Eric,  "  I  want  to  see  them." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  went  on  his  sister, 
"  how  could  I  have  forgotten  it !  You  have 
come  just  in  time  to  see  a  dramatisation  of  one 

196 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

of  your  books — the  first  one.  You  remember 
Mr.  Ames  wrote  you  and  received  your  per 
mission  to  dramatise  it.  Some  of  the  society 
people  gave  it  here  several  months  ago  for  a 
charity,  and  now  they  are  to  give  it  again,  in 
fact  this  very  evening.  How  very  fortunate 
that  you  came  to-day.  We  must  hurry  if  we 
are  to  reach  the  theatre  on  time.  I  have  a  box 
already  engaged,  but  I  do  not  want  you  to  be 
late,  for  you  will  want  to  see  it  all." 

But  they  did  not  reach  the  theatre  until  the 
end  of  the  first  act,  as  the  heavy  plush  curtains 
fell  together  again  after  the  final  curtain  call. 

Those  who  were  taking  part  had  gone  to 
their  dressing-rooms  to  prepare  for  the  next 
act,  and  Dick  stood  on  the  stage  watching  the 
men  place  the  scenery,  then  he  went  over  and 
took  a  survey  of  the  auditorium. 

"Great  Scott,  if  that  isn't  Eric!"  he  ex 
claimed. 

He  hurried  around  to  see  him,  but  could  only 
remain  a  few  moments  as  he  was  stage  manj- 

197 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

ager  and  had  to  be  back  for  the  second  act. 
The  girl  who  was  taking  the  part  of  the  Prin 
cess  came  from  her  dressing-room  and  stood 
in  one  of  the  wings  waiting — it  was  Sylvia. 
She  wore  the  magnificent  jewelled  robes  of  an 
Egyptian  princess,  her  hair  fell  in  rich  waves 
over  her  shoulders,  a  jewelled  crown  resting 
on  its  golden  splendour;  she  was  the  living 
illustration  of  the  Princess  described  in  the 
book. 

Dick  went  up  to  her  and  whispered, 

"  What  do  you  think?  I  have  just  discovered 
that  the  author  is  here.'' 

"Here?"  murmured  Sylvia.  "Oh,  no,  not 
here  really  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  in  his  sister's  box.  I  have  just 
spoken  to  him." 

Dick  was  called  then  to  attend  to  something 
on  the  stage.  There  wrere  two  or  three  mo 
ments  before  the  curtain  was  to  rise.  Sylvia 
ran  back  to  her  dressing-room,  her  maid  was 
not  there,  so  she  was  alone. 

198 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "at  last — at  last — and 
to-night!  How  glorious!  For  I  know  I  am 
beautiful  to-night;  this  part  and  these  robes 
would  make  any  one  so.  Ah,  I  will  play  my 
part — how  I  will  play  it !  I  will  move  him,  as 
well  as  all  the  others.  He  did  not  care  when  he 
knew  me  before,  but  he  shall  care  now.  He 
must  have  loved  the  Princess  in  his  book,  and 
I  am  that  Princess  to-night.  But  I  will  not 
look  at  him  once,  I  will  not  see  him,  until  he 
asks  to  be  brought  afterwards  to  be  introduced 
to  me.  He  will  ask  to  be — I  know  it." 

Dick  came  to  the  door. 

"  The  curtain  must  be  drawn  now,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Sylvia,  with  a  strange, 
glad  light  in  her  eyes,  which  he  did  not  notice, 
as  he  was  hurrying  back  towards  the  stage. 
When  the  curtain  was  drawn,  it  disclosed  a 
magnificent  hall  in  the  palace  of  the  Pharaoh. 
Eric  looked  at  it,  well  pleased,  for  the  scenic 
artist  had  carried  out  his  description  of  the 
place  perfectly.  There  was  some  low,  soft 

199 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

music  which  seemed  to  come  from  a  distant 
room  in  the  palace,  and  then  the  Princess  en 
tered. 

Eric  sat  for  a  second  as  if  turned  to  marble 
— then  he  leaned  away  forward,  his  elbow  on 
the  railing  of  the  box. 

"  My  God,  it  is  Barbara !  "  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  What  did  you  say,  Eric  ?  "  asked  his  sister, 
but  she  saw  that  he  had  not  heard  her,  and 
she  did  not  repeat  the  question. 

As  soon  as  the  curtain  fell,  Eric  sprang  to 
his  feet.  At  the  door  he  remembered  his 
sister,  and  hesitated  a  second. 

"  Excuse  me  for  a  few  moments,"  he  said, 
"  I  am  sure  Dick  will  be  here,  he  told  us  he 
would  come  back  again  after  the  act." 

Then  he  disappeared,  leaving  his  sister  to 
wonder  what  had  happened  to  him. 

When  Eric  found  himself  out  in  the  free 
night  air,  he  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed 
aloud. 


200 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Thank  Heaven,  thank  Heaven,"  he  whis 
pered,  as  he  hurried  down  the  street,  scarcely 
noticing  where  he  was  going,  yet  he  had  a 
definite  object  in  his  mind. 

Fortunately  the  place  for  which  he  was  look 
ing  was  not  far,  in  fact  there  were  many  such 
places  in  Nice — it  was  a  florist's. 

"  Give  me  all  the  violets  you  have,"  he  told 
the  man  as  he  entered.  The  florist  looked  at 
him  in  open-eyed  amazement,  it  was  rather  an 
unusual  hour — nine-thirty — to  have  a  gentle 
man  rushing  in,  and  such  a  good-looking  one, 
to  demand  "  all  of  his  violets,"  and  in  such 
haste  that  he  had  evidently  forgotten  his  hat. 
But  the  florist  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  He 
brought  out  hundreds  of  the  fragrant  little 
purple  blossoms  and  tied  them  all  together 
into  one  huge  bouquet.  Eric  took  them 
quickly. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  thrusting  something 
into  the  florist's  hand  which  made  that  worthy 
man  smile  broadly  and  bow  very  low. 

201 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

"  He  must  be  a  prince,"  said  the  florist  to 
himself,  looking  out  of  the  window  at  the  re 
treating  figure  of  Eric,  "  to  be  able  to  pay  this 
for  even  such  a  grand  bunch  as  I  gave  him.  I 
hope  he  will  patronise  me  often.  I  always 
knew  it  would  be  to  my  great  advantage  to 
have  my  shop  near  the  theatre,  and  to  keep 
plenty  of  flowers  always  ready,  no  matter  what 
the  time  of  night." 

Eric  was  back  at  the  theatre.  The  audi 
torium  was  dark,  as  the  third  act  had  already 
begun,  but  he  captured  an  usher  and  told  him 
to  deliver  the  flowers  with  his  card  to  the 
lady  who  took  the  part  of  the  Princess.  Then 
he  returned  to  his  sister's  box  and  watched  the 
rest  of  the  act.  When  it  was  finished,  Dick 
came  again. 

"  We  wondered  where  you  had  gone."  he 
said.  "  Your  sister  and  I  could  not  imagine. 
But  now  I  see.  The  violets  have  just  been 
delivered  to  her.  When  the  play  is  over,  I  want 
you  to  come  and  meet  her." 

202 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

'  Thank  you,"  said  Eric,  with  a  queer  little 
smile. 

''How  many  more  acts  are  there?"  asked 
Miss  Fielding.  "  We  came  in  so  late,  w-e  for 
got  to  get  any  programmes." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon."  said  Eric,  won't 
you  have  one  now  ?  " 

'  There  is  one  more  act,"  said  Dick. 

"  Well,  never  mind  about  the  programme 
then,"  said  Miss  Fielding,  "  Since  Mr.  Ames 
has  told  us  what  we  chiefly  wanted  to  know." 

When  the  play  was  successfully  over,  and 
Sylvia  had  surpassed  the  expectations  of  even 
her  warmest  admirers,  she  had  played  as  if  she 
were  inspired,  and  it  was  no  exaggeration  to 
say  that  a  professional  might  have  been  satis 
fied  to  play  the  role  as  well  as  she  did. 

Sylvia  was  intensely  excited;  all  during  the 
evening  she  had  been  conscious  of  the  one  face 
in  the  box — though  she  had  never  once  glanced 
toward  it — so  conscious  that  when  Dick  came 
up  to  her,  as  she  was  turning  toward  her  dress- 


203 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

ing-room,  to  ask  her  if  she  would  receive  Mr. 
Fielding,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  he  must  see, 
even  in  the  semi-darkness  of  the  stage,  the  vivid 
blush  that  she  felt  rush  to  her  cheeks  with  the 
sound  of  that  name. 

"  Please  wait  just  a  moment,"  Dick  had  said. 
"  I  want  to  bring  Mr.  Fielding  to  meet  you. 
I  would  not  let  others  come,  for  I  said  you 
would  be  in  a  hurry,  and  that  they  could  see 
you  at  the  ball,  but  if  you  do  not  mind,  I  would 
like  to  bring  the  author  for  a  moment.  I  have 
a  fancy  for  having  the  author  and  the  heroine 
of  his  book — for  truly,  Sylvia,  you  might  be 
the  embodied  Princess — meet  here  on  the  scene 
of  your  joint  triumph — for  I  want  you  two  to 
be  friends." 

"  I  will  wait  here,"  said  Sylvia,  simply.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  could  not  trust  her  voice- 
to  say  more  than  that. 

After  Dick  was  fairly  out  of  sight,  Sylvia 
leaned  against  one  of  the  flies;  she  was  trem 
bling  so  that  she  felt  as  if  she  could  hardly 

204 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

stand.  Now  that  the  moment  had  actually 
come  of  which  she  had  so  often  dreamed,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  had  lost  all  her  self-con 
trol,  and  she  was  seized  with  a  great  fear  lest 
in  some  way  she  should  betray  her  own  re 
membrance  of  the  far-off  California  days.  She 
was  positive  that  the  lapse  of  years  had  en 
tirely  wiped  all  remembrance  of  Barbara  from 
his  mind,  or  if  some  passing  thought  had  been 
wakened  by  her  resemblance,  it  would  have 
been  instantly  dissipated  by  his  finding  the 
name  of  Countess  Sylvia  on  the  programme. 

Her  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  Dick's 
return,  closely  followed  by  Eric. 

Dick  was  about  to  speak,  when  Eric  sprang 
forward  and  impulsively  caught  Sylvia's  hand 
and  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"  Darling!  "  he  whispered. 

For  a  moment  Sylvia  stood  dazed,  she  could 
scarcely  breathe,  so  utterly  unexpected  was  the 
word  and  the  act,  but  she  quickly  controlled 
herself,  and  forcing  a  smile  to  her  quivering 

205 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

lips,  said,  "  Of  course,  I  know  that  you  are  the 
author,  and  you  compliment  me  very  much  in 
seeing  in  me  your  Princess — but  now  the  play 
is  over — really — really— 

Dick  stepped  up;  for  a  moment  he  had  been 
too  astonished  to  speak,  and  he  \vas  also 
amused.  He  supposed  Sylvia's  wonderful  act 
ing  had  made  Eric  forget  the  realities  of  life 
in  believing  that  his  Princess  stood  before 
him. 

"  Yes,  really,  Eric,"  Dick  finally  said,  look 
ing  at  him  and  laughing  a  little,  "  The  Count 
ess  understands,  but  you  know  it  was  only  a 
part  she  took — you  must  come  back  to  earth. 
Won't  you  let  me  introduce  you?  " 

"The  Countess?"  said  Eric.  ''Countess! 
I  do  not  understand." 

"  No,  we  knew  you  were  in  a  dream,  Eric," 
went  on  Dick,  "  that  is  why  we  were  not  more 
— astonished.  But  the  truth  is,  this  is  not  your 
Princess,  it  is  the  Countess  Sylvia  to  whom  I 
want  to  present  you." 

206 


An  AMERICAN   COUNTESS 

Eric's  eyes  turned  from  Sylvia  to  Dick  with 
an  agonised  look. 

"  Countess  Sylvia,"  he  said,  "  what  a  hor 
rible  mistake  I  have  made!  Oh,  can  you  ever 
forgive  me  ?  " 

Sylvia  looked  at  him  kindly  and  smiled  a 
little. 

"  Yes/'  she  said,  "  I  will  forgive  you.  And 
I  want  to  thank  you  so  much  for  the  violets, — 
they  are  lovely." 

"  You  are  very  good,  Countess,"  replied  Eric 
coldly. 

Sylvia  noticed  the  coldness  in  his  tone,  and  it 
sent  a  shiver  through  her. 

"  And  now  you  must  excuse  me,  gentlemen," 
she  said,  "  for  I  must  go  to  change  my  gown 
for  the  ball.  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  there  later." 

She  smiled  at  them,  and  turning  quickly, 
went  to  her  dressing-room. 

Eric  stood  very  still,  looking  blankly  down 
at  the  floor.  Dick  went  up  to  him  and  took  his 
arm. 


207 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"Come,"  he  said,  "it  is  all  right;  she  will 
forgive  you.  I  don't  blame  you  for  losing 
your  head ;  she  is  the  image  of  your  heroine,  is 
she  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Eric,  slowly,  "  she  is  the  per 
fect  image.  It  does  not  seem  possible  that  she 
is  real." 

"  But  wait  till  you  see  her  again,  later,  you 
will  find  that  you  have  not  been  dreaming — 
she  is  real." 

"  But  I  have  been  dreaming,"  said  Eric. 
"  The  last  hour  has  been  a  mad,  terrible,  beauti 
ful  dream — but  now — now  I  am  awake 
again!"  He  straightened  his  shoulders. 

"  Dick,"  he  said,  "  try  to  forget  it  all — the 
dreadful  blunder  I  have  made,  will  you  not? 
What  must  you  think  of  me?  What  must  she 
think  of  me?  Ah,  I  am  so  thankful  no  one 
else  was  here." 

"  Don't  worry,"  said  Dick.  "  The  Countess 
has  a  heart  of  gold ;  she  understands  that  it  was 
the  influence  of  the  play,  and  what  woman 

208 


An  AMERICAN   COUNTESS 

would  not  be  flattered  by  such  a  tribute  to  her 
acting?  And  as  for  myself,  why  you  know, 
my  dear  fellow,  I  am  the  last  person  in  the 
world  to  remember." 

They  had  reached  the  stage  entrance,  and 
stood  there  a  moment,  as  the  crowd  was  stream 
ing  past,  blocking  the  pavement. 

"  You  will  come  with  me  to  the  ball,  will 
you  not?"  asked  Dick. 

"  No,  thank  you  just  the  same,"  said  Eric, 
"  I  think  I  shall  return  home  with  my  sister. 
By  Jove,  I  had  nearly  forgotten  her.  She 
must  be  waiting  for  me  in  the  box.  I  told  her 
I  would  come  back  for  her." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  wron't  come,"  said  Dick, 
"  but  I  must  leave  you  then,  and  go  alone." 

Eric  turned  and  re-entered  the  theatre,  mak 
ing  his  way  to  his  sister,  who  sat  waiting 
patiently  for  him. 


209 


CHAPTER   XXI 


WHEN  Sylvia  had  changed  her  Egyptian 
robes  for  the  ball  gown  which  her  maid  had 
brought  to  the  theatre,  she  went  out  to  the 
stage  entrance  where  her  own  coupe  stood 
waiting  for  her,  in  which  sat  the  Baroness. 

"  Philip  came  over  just  after  you  left  the 
theatre,"  said  the  Baroness.  "  He  said  you 
told  him  you  would  meet  him  at  the  ball,  so  I 
said  he  need  not  wait  for  me,  as  I  would  call 
for  you  myself.  Was  the  play  a  success?  I 
thought  I  would  not  come  down  to  see  it  after 
all,  as  I  saw  it  before,  and  I  wanted  to  rest  be 
fore  the  ball." 

"  I  believe  it  was  a  success,"  said  Sylvia, 
dreamily.  "  Dick  told  me  between  the  acts 
that  they  were  warm  in  their  praises,  and  they 
were  kind  in  giving  us  a  great  deal  of  ap 
plause." 

"  I  am  sure  they  were  enthusiastic.     You 

2IO 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

will  probably  hear  a  great  deal  when  you  reach 
the  ball.  You  deserve  their  admiration,  my 
dear.  When  I  saw  you.  you  really  looked 
ravishing,  and  your  acting  is  wonderful  for  an 
amateur.  I  was  very  proud,  indeed,  of  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Sylvia,  pressing  her 
aunt's  hand. 

"  Where  did  you  get  those  violets  ?  It  is 
the  most  gorgeous  bunch  I  have  ever  seen. 
Were  they  sent  to  you  behind  the  scenes  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia. 

"  I  noticed  that  you  left  the  orchids  at  home 
which  Philip  sent  you.  I  supposed  you  did 
not  care  to  wear  them,  so  I  did  not  bring 
them.  Didn't  you  fancy  them  with  your 
gown  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  believe  they  would  go  with 
it,  my  gown  is  white.  I  had  not  thought,  but 
I  suppose  I  should  wear  them.  Let  us  go  home 
for  them  first." 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Sylvia  went 
up  to  her  room.  She  buried  her  face  in  the 


211 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

violets  a  moment,  then  held  them  off,  looking 
at  them. 

"  There !  "  she  said,  pressing  them  again  to 
her  lips,  "  your  life  must  needs  be  short — but, 
ah,  how  sweet !  I  am  not  going  to  put  you  in 
water — for  it  spoils  violets  to  put  them  in 
water,  but  I  will  lay  you  on  the  bed  and  let 
your  sweetness  fill  my  room.  I  ought  not  to 
take  you  with  me,  for  he  must  not  see  that  I 
care  so  much  for  you.  I  must  take  Philip's 
flowers,  he  would  feel  bad  if  I  did  not.  How 
thoughtless  of  me  to  forget  them." 

When  Sylvia  reached  the  Casino  where  the 
ball  was  held,  she  found  Philip  standing  in  the 
doorway  waiting  for  her.  She  went  to  the 
dressing-room,  threw  off  her  wrap  and  then 
joined  him  again  and  they  entered  the  ball 
room. 

He  saw  that  she  carried  his  flowers. 

"  Thank  you  for  taking  mine,  when  you 
must  have  had  so  many  others  too,"  he  said. 

Sylvia  blushed  a  little  to  think  that  she  had 

212 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

come  so  near  forgetting  his  flowers,  but  she 
was  thankful  afresh  that  her  aunt  had  reminded 
her  in  time. 

On  their  entrance  to  the  ball-room,  Sylvia 
was  immediately  surrounded  by  her  enthusi 
astic  friends,  eager  to  congratulate  her  upon 
her  evening's  triumph.  Besides  having  been 
charmed  with  her  acting  in  the  play,  Sylvia  was 
a  favourite  with  every  one.  So  many  sur 
rounded  her  that  the  dancing  was  stopped  for 
the  moment  at  the  end  of  the  hall  in  which  she 
stood.  Dick  was  near  a  doorway  at  the  other 
end;  he  looked  across  at  the  group  of  people, 
seeing  Sylvia  among  them. 

"  She  is  always  the  centre  of  everything 
wherever  she  goes — the  little  Countess — the 
desire  of  every  heart,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  Ah,  lucky  man  who  is  strong  enough  to  with 
stand  her  captivating  graces.  Mr.  Richard 
Ames,  I  bow  to  your  Herculean  strength  of 
character,  you  are  a  rare  specimen ! "  He 
smiled  as  he  paid  himself  this  compliment — 

213 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

yet  who  shall  say  why  the  smile  was  followed 
by  a  sigh? 

"  I  won't  bother  her  by  trying  to  get  a 
dance  yet,  I  will  let  the  others  have  my  share 
to-night.  They  seem  wilder  than  ever,  after 
her  triumph  in  the  play.  Look  at  Philip,  poor 
chap,  he  is  already  devoured  with  jealousy  at 
those  men  who  are  claiming  dances.  Dick 
went  to  the  smoking-room  to  enjoy  a  cigar  and 
chat  with  the  few  men  already  there,  who 
thought  as  he  did,  that  they  would  keep  in  the 
background,  at  least  for  the  present. 

Philip  presently  succeeded  in  securing  his 
partner  for  the  first  dance.  She  allowed  him 
to  put  his  name  down  for  several  more  on  her 
card,  as  he  had  brought  her, but  she  had  to  give 
a  great  many  to  the  others.  When  they  had 
finished  the  waltz  and  were  taking  a  short  stroll 
in  the  conservatory,  waiting  for  the  next  dance, 
she  glanced  down  at  her  card,  realising  that  all 
the  dances  were  taken.  She  felt  a  bitter  dis 
appointment  that  this  should  be  so. 

214 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  None  left  for  Dick,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  and  none  for — for — if  he  should  want  one. 
This  ball  is  a  failure.  I  wish  it  were  time  to 
go  home,  but  alas,  it  is  only  just  beginning." 

With  a  start  she  realised  that  Philip  was 
speaking  to  her,  and  she  had  no  idea  what  he 
was  saying. 

Though  she  should  not  have  a  dance  to  give 
him,  she  believed  that  Eric  would  at  least  come 
up  and  ask  for  one,  and  she  could  talk  to  him 
for  the  moment.  But  the  evening  wore  on, 
and  after  each  dance  she  looked  for  him  in 
vain. 

"  He  must  be  here,"  she  said  to  herself,  im 
patiently,  "  but  why  does  he  not  find  me  ?  It 
is  simple  enough — the  others  manage  it.  And 
I  wonder  where  Dick  is,  I  have  not  seen  him 
either." 

The  man  she  was  with  was  looking  at  her. 

"  May  I  get  you  a  glass  of  water,  or  some 
thing?  You  look  pale,"  he  said. 

She  sighed  wearily. 

215 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  Perhaps  I  am  a  little  tired,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  been  dancing  so  much,  the  intermissions 
are  so  short.  Thank  you,  I  think  I  would  like 
a  glass  of  water.  I  will  sit  here  and  wait  for 
you." 

He  left  her  in  a  corner  near  the  entrance  to 
the  hallway  which  led  to  the  smoking-room. 
Just  then  Dick  appeared  at  this  entrance,  and, 
seeing  her,  hurried  towards  her. 

"  This  is  very  fortunate,"  he  said,  dropping 
into  a  chair  beside  her. 

"  I  have  been  keeping  out  of  the  way,  be 
cause  I  felt  the  others  deserved  you.  I  am 
usually  so  selfish  in  asking  for  so  many  dances. 
I  thought  I  would  be  good  to-night.  Pray, 
Mademoiselle,  admire  my  noble  disinterested 
ness.  But  may  I  have  a  dance  now  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  there  are  none  left,"  said 
Sylvia. 

"  I  am  so  sorry!  "  exclaimed  Dick.  "  But  I 
may  wait  here  until  your  partner  returns,  may 
I  not?" 

216 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  Yes,  gladly,"  she  said.  She  was  longing 
to  ask  him  where  Eric  was,  but  she  felt  she 
could  not  word  even  that  simple  question  with 
out  betraying  her  own  great  interest  in  the  man 
who  was  supposed  to  be  a  stranger  to  her. 
Then  Dick  spoke  again,  and  her  heart  beat 
quicker  as  she  heard  what  he  was  saying. 

"  I  could  not  persuade  Mr.  Fielding  to  come 
with  me.  I  fear  he  was  very  much  embar 
rassed  at  his  mistake  to-night,  and  did  not  dare 
meet  you  again — at  least  so  soon." 

Sylvia  gave  a  little  laugh,  she  felt  happy, 
for,  even  though  she  was  not  to  see  him  that 
night,  he  had  not  been  there  and  neglected  to 
come  to  her. 

"  He  need  not  be  afraid  of  me." 

"  No,  so  I  said,"  replied  Dick.  "  I  told  him 
you  were  generous  and  had  a  forgiving  heart, 
but  he  insisted  upon  returning  home." 

Just  then  Sylvia's  partner  came  back  with 
the  glass  of  water,  and  Dick  left  her. 

When  Sylvia  and  her  aunt  reached  home 

217 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

after  the  ball,  the  Baroness  said,  as  she  bade 
her  good-night, 

"  You  must  stay  in  bed  and  rest  to-morrow, 
or  rather  this  morning,  for  you  need  it,  as  we 
leave  this  afternoon." 

"  Leave  this  afternoon  ? "  said  Sylvia. 
"  Oh,— I  had  forgotten." 

"  Forgotten  ?  That  we  were  to  leave  for 
Switzerland  for  the  summer?  " 

"  Yes,  I  had  quite  forgotten.  Oh,  how  I 
wish  we  need  not  go  now — now " 

Her  aunt  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"  What  has  come  over  you,  Sylvia  ?  You 
have  been  even  more  eager  for  this  journey 
than  I  have.  You  know  you  never  stay  in 
Nice  in  the  summer  months — you  can't  really 
mean  that  you  don't  wish  to  go?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,  auntie,  I  wish  to  go. 
What  could  I  have  been  dreaming  of?  I  did 
not  realise  what  I  was  saying.  Certainly  we 
will  go ;  we  could  not  remain  here,  it  would  be 
impossible." 

218 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

''  I  thought  you  must  have  been  in  the 
clouds,  dear,  the  evening  has  been  so  full  of 
excitement  for  you.  Now  go  to  bed  and  have 
a  good  long  rest.  You  need  it,  and  if  you  are 
too  fatigued  to  start  this  afternoon,  we  will 
postpone  it  until  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  ready,"  said  Sylvia,  "  but  I 
hope  you  will  not  be  too  tired  yourself,  auntie." 
She  said  good-night  and  went  to  her  own 
room.  She  closed  the  door  and  heaved  a  con 
tented  sigh,  she  was  glad  to  be  alone.  The 
lights  had  been  turned  on  by  her  maid,  and 
the  room  prepared  for  her  for  the  night.  She 
looked  towards  the  bed — the  violets  were  gone ! 

Sylvia  summoned  her  maid. 

"  Where  are  the  violets  I  left  here?  " 

"  I  did  not  put  them  in  water,  Mademoi 
selle,"  replied  the  girl,  "  for  you  have  often 
told  me  that  that  spoils  violets,  but  I  took  them 
down  to  the  refrigerator — they  will  keep  nicely 
there,  I  think." 

"  You  may  bring  them  to  me."  said  Sylvia. 

219 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

The  girl  returned  with  the  violets  and 
helped  her  mistress  prepare  for  bed.  When 
Sylvia  was  ready  and  the  maid  had  gone,  she 
placed  the  violets  beside  her  on  the  pillow,  with 
one  hand  thrown  over  them.  A  bewitching, 
happy  little  smile  crept  about  her  mouth,  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  almost  immediately  fell 
into  a  deep  sleep — she  was  very  tired. 


220 


CHAPTER  XXII 


THE  Fieldings  spent  the  summer  in  Eng 
land,  but  returned  to  Nice  in  the  autumn. 
They  had  been  back  but  a  day  when  Dick  came 
to  see  Eric. 

"  I  have  asked  the  Countess  if  I  may  take 
you  to  call,"  he  said.  "  And  do  you  want  to 
go  to-morrow  night?  If  we  go,  they  will  send 
you  a  card  to  their  ball  next  week,  it  is  to  be  the 
first  really  large  affair  to  open  the  season." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Eric,  "  but  I  do  not 
know  that  I  care  to  go." 

"  Do  not  care  to  go  ?  Great  Heavens,  man, 
are  you  out  of  your  senses — and  you  intend  to 
spend  the  winter  in  Nice !  " 

"  Must  I  know  the  Countess  to  spend  the 
winter  here  ?  "  asked  Eric,  laughing. 

"  Certainly,  she  is  the  acknowledged  leader 
in  society.  If  you  do  not  care  to  join  her  court 
of  admirers,  you  at  least  must  attend  her  en- 

221 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

tertainments.  You  would  be  hopelessly  out  of 
everything  if  you  did  not.  And  this  from  you, 
the  Lion  of  the  hour!  Look  here,  old  man, 
brace  up,  you  know  you  like  society,  do  not 
pretend  to  be  blase." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  blase,"  said  Eric, 
only  if  you  remember  my  meeting  with  the 
Countess — when  I  made  such  a  fool  of  myself 
— you  cannot  blame  me  if  I  hesitate  about  see 
ing  her  again.  However,  if  I  must  do  it,  I 
suppose  I  must." 

"  Don't  worry,  she  has  probably  forgotten 
all  about  it.  She  will  be  pleased  to  have  you 
come,  for  she  told  me  I  might  bring  you." 

"  Then  I  will  go,"  said  Eric. 

The  next  evening  found  Dick  and  Eric  at 
Sylvia's  villa.  There  were  several  others  al 
ready  there,  so  the  two  men  made  but  a  formal 
call,  and  then  took  their  departure. 

"  Now  that  you  have  seen  her  as  she  is,"  said 
Dick,  as  they  were  walking  toward  the  gate 
way,  "  and  not  as  the  Egyptian,  don't  you 

222 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

think  she  is  even  more  beautiful  than  she  was 
in  the  play  ?  " 

"  She  certainly  is  very  pretty,"  said  Eric, 
without  enthusiasm. 

Dick  was  saying  to  himself: 

"  I  can  see  that  this  is  going  to  be  a  relief 
from  Philip — they  are  to  be  the  two  extremes." 

He  made  another  remark  to  Eric  about  the 
Countess — to  test  his  theory — and  as  Eric  did 
not  respond,  Dick  patted  himself  on  the  back, 
figuratively  speaking,  to  think  that  he  had  at 
last  found  a  man  who  would  not  go  into  rap 
tures  at  the  mere  mention  of  her  name.  Eric 
saw  her  very  often.  There  was  some  social 
event  nearly  every  night  as  the  season  was  a 
gay  one.  He  talked  to  her  and  stood  near  her, 
when  he  was  obliged  to,  but  the  rest  of  the  time 
he  kept  away.  It  tortured  him  to  look  at  her. 
He  remembered  the  night  in  California  when 
he  had  first  met  Barbara,  and  had  compared  her 
to  the  girl  he  had  seen  in  Venice.  Why  had 
Fate  brought  him  back  to  this  girl,  who  in 

223 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

every  detail  of  appearance,  was  so  like  Bar 
bara?  And  her  voice — that  wonderful,  low 
sweet  voice  that  he  had  so  loved  in  Barbara — 
he  heard  again  when  with  the  Countess.  Her 
eyes  looked  up  at  one  in  the  same  innocent 
way — her  laugh  was  the  same — that  merry 
laugh  that  had  so  rejoiced  him,  and  that  had 
rung  through  his  memory  all  these  years.  It 
nearly  drove  him  mad  to  hear  it  now  from  this 
other  girl.  What  right  had  she  to  be  so  much 
like  Barbara?  If  he  shut  his  eyes,  he  could 
almost  think  that  it  was  Barbara,  and  when 
he  opened  them  again,  the  bitterness  of  the 
reality  seemed  almost  more  than  he  could  bear. 
And  yet  each  time  that  he  saw  her,  he  told 
himself  that  if  he  knew  her — her  character  and 
thoughts  and  ideas — he  would  find  her  entirely 
different  from  Barbara.  He  longed  with  all  his 
strength  to  prove  this  so  for  he  resented  bit 
terly  the  fact  that  she  should  look  so  much  like 
his  lost  love.  Yet  he  persisted  in  his  determi 
nation  to  find  it  only  a  physical  resemblance. 

224 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

The  soul — the  mind — the  heart  of  Barbara 
could  have — should  have  no  counterpart. 

"  It  cannot  be,  it  is  impossible !  "  he  said 
savagely  once  upon  leaving  her  after  a  dance. 
"  I  will  not  go  near  her  again  for  a  week ! 
I  have  grown  fanciful  about  her.  I  know  it  is 
all  in  my  fancy,  it  is  not  true  that  she  is  really 
like  Barbara.  I  will  stay  away  until  I  have 
grown  rational  again." 

But  he  suddenly  remembered  that  he  must 
see  her  the  very  next  day,  as  he  had  gotten  up 
a  coaching  party  and  had  invited  her  to  take 
the  box  seat  beside  him. 

"  It  seems  to  be  Fate  that  I  should  be  with 
her,  and  as  this  is  so,  I  will  baffle  Fate  itself,  I 
will  be  with  her  every  day  if  circumstances 
throw  us  together,  and  instead  of  being  afraid 
to  find  her  like  Barbara,  I  will  know  it  is  im 
possible,  I  will  prove  this  in  spite  of  Fate." 

His  whole  energy  was  thrown  into  this  one 
longing — to  prove  her  entirely  different  in 
character,  no  matter  how  like  in  face  and  form. 


225 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

He  felt  he  must  do  it  for  Barbara's  sake  as 
well  as  his  own. 

The  next  day,  when  the  party  had  returned 
from- the  drive  and  had  left  Sylvia  standing  on 
the  piazza.,  she  wratched  the  coach  drive  away, 
waving  her  hand  to  her  friends  as  they  passed 
through  the  gateway.  She  sank  into  a  chair 
with  a  little  happy  laugh. 

"  It  is  almost  too  good  to  be  true/'  she 
whispered.  "  How  dear  he  is  when  one  knows 
him  better !  All  that  I  had  thought  of  him,  all 
that  I  had  imagined  about  him  is  not  so  good 
as  he  himself  is !  " 

She  was  filled  with  unspeakable  gladness, 
for  she  saw  him  so  often,  she  felt  sure  that  he 
must  at  least  like  her,  and  she  was  contented 
with  this ;  she  was  enjoying  the  present,  neither 
hoping  nor  wondering  if  he  would  some  day 
love  her  as  she  loved  him.  She  thought  that 
he  must  at  least  care  something  for  her.  or 
why  did  he  so  evidently  seek  her  out?  And 
yet — and  yet — if  he  did  care,  why  did  he  not 

226 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

say  so,  as  other  men  did?  She  had  been  able 
to  know  him  just  so  well  and  never  any  better ; 
they  went  just  so  far  in  their  friendship  and 
never  any  further.  She  knew  that  she  was  not 
the  one  to  decide  how  far  their  friendship 
should  go,  Eric,  was  the  one.  They  had 
talked  of  books,  people,  art  and  many  things, 
but  there  it  had  stopped,  nothing  any  more 
personal,  and  if  he  would  not,  she  could  not. 

And  though  she  had  been  so  happy  in  the 
friendship  she  had  already,  all  at  once,  that 
afternoon  as  she  sat  on  the  verandah,  after 
having  been  by  his  side  all  through  the  day, 
she  suddenly  felt  a  great  longing  spring  up  in 
her  heart  for  more — infinitely  more.  Their 
friendship  had  been  sweet,  but  she  loved  him. 
Love  cannot  be  satisfied  for  long  with  mere 
friendship,  and  she  was  beginning  to  realise 
this. 

The  thought  of  Philip  came  to  her,  and  she 
wondered  the  old,  old  problem,  why  does  not 
love  always  beget  love,  why  does  the  human 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

heart  so  often  find  its  greatest  desire  in  the  un 
attainable  ?  For  the  men  who  offered  her  their 
love  she  felt  little  concern,  for  she  believed  that 
none  of  them  would  suffer  long  or  deep.  She 
did  not  attempt  to  analyse  the  qualities  of  their 
proffered  love,  but  attributed  it  to  her  wealth 
and  title.  She  knew  of  course  that  she  was 
beautiful,  but  she  held  beauty  a  gift  from  God. 
something  to  be  glad  and  thankful  for,  but  no 
cause  for  pride  or  vanity.  But  her  greatest 
charm,  that  which  rendered  her  irresistible  to 
men  and  women  alike,  was  a  charm  of  which 
she  was  herself  unconscious,  that  subtle,  inde 
scribable  gift,  without  which  beauty  itself 
wearies  or  wit  palls — the  charm  of  magnetism. 
But  with  Philip  she  knew  it  was  different 
from  the  other  men.  Though  she  had  really 
never  given  him  any  ground  for  hope,  they  had 
been  on  terms  of  unusually  close  friendship 
ever  since  that  evening  in  Venice  when  he  had 
first  told  her  that  he  loved  her.  She  knew  that 
time  had  made  no  difference  in  his  thought 

228 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

of  her,  that  his  love  for  her  was  to-day  as  it 
had  been  then,  true  and  deep,  and  she  believed 
what  he  had  so  often  told  her,  that  it  filled  his 
whole  life.  And  now  all  her  heart  went  out 
in  longing  that  Eric  should  feel  just  such  a 
love  as  this. 


229 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


SPRING  came,  and  in  such  a  Fairy-land  as 
it  brought  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  happy 
— at  least  so  Sylvia  thought,  as  she  opened 
her  window  one  morning  and  looked  out  upon 
the  exquisite  world  of  flowers.  The  Carnival 
had  just  passed  and  she  had  had  such  merry 
times.  Eric  had  been  constantly  near  her 
through  it  all.  She  had  been  joyous,  even  if 
underneath  her  happiness  she  had  felt  that 
ceaseless  longing.  She  looked  out  across  the 
garden  and  sang  a  gay  little  song,  and  drew 
toward  her  a  rose  which  had  climbed  to  her 
window.  Her  soul  had  seemed  a  moment  ago 
too  full  of  joy  for  utterance,  and  yet — and  yet — 
her  song  ceased  suddenly,  and  a  tear  fell  on  the 
rose  which  she  had  pressed  against  her  face. 

"  I  feel,"  she  said.  "  as  if  it  were  not  real, 
my  Joy?  the  gladness  I  have  felt  in  being  with 
him  so  much,  is  not  real,  for  it  can  only  last 
while  I  am  with  him ;  when  I  am  away  from 

230 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

him,  it  is  gone.  I  do  not  understand — he 
likes  me  I  am  sure,  but  does  he  care?  Ah,  I 
almost  fear  he  does  not,  for  if  he  did,  surely 
he  would  tell  me  so." 

Eric  had  asked  her  to  ride  with  him  that 
afternoon. 

This  would  be  only  one  of  many  rides  which 
they  had  taken  together,  in  which  they  had 
explored  the  beautiful  country  about  Nice. 

As  they  started  off,  Eric  exclaimed,  with  a 
gaiety  unusual  to  him,  "  Whither  shall  we  go, 
fair  lady  ?  We  seem  to  have  been  over  all  the 
roads  about  here  and,  like  Nineteenth  Century 
Alexanders,  we  sigh  for  more  worlds  to  con 
quer!" 

"  Let's  leave  the  beaten  paths,  and  go  across 
country,"  said  Sylvia. 

After  winding  in  and  out  among  the  woods 
they  came  to  a  broad  open  tract  of  open  coun 
try. 

"  The  very  place  for  a  race !  I  defy  you  to 
catch  me !  "  cried  Sylvia,  starting  ahead. 

231 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

A  word  to  his  horse,  and  Eric  was  in  close 
pursuit.  His  was  the  better  mount,  and  he 
could  have  easily  overtaken  her,  but  he  found 
pleasure  in  her  innocent  wish  to  win,  and  his 
own  reward  for  any  sacrifice  he  made  as 
sportsman  he  found  in  watching  the  graceful, 
girlish  figure  riding  so  fearlessly  before 
him. 

Suddenly  Sylvia's  horse  caught  one  of  his 
fore  feet  in  a  nasty  hole,  which  was  hidden  by 
the  tall  grass  growing  over  it.  The  animal 
fell  forward,  throwing  Sylvia  over  its  head. 
Though  she  landed  on  the  soft  turf,  the  fall 
was  such  a  sudden  one  that  it  stunned  her  and 
she  lay  quite  unconscious.  Eric  was  off  his 
horse  and  at  her  side  in  a  second.  He  quickly 
put  his  coat  under  her  head  and  ran  to  a 
brook  which  he  discovered  near  by,  bringing 
some  water  in  his  hat.  Sylvia  soon  opened  her 
eyes  and  smiled  up  at  him. 

"  It  is  really  nothing,"  she  said;,  "  How 
foolish  of  me  to  have  fainted." 


232 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  But  you  are  hurt ! "  he  said  with  deep 
anxiety. 

"  Oh,  really,  I  am  not  hurt,  only  stunned  a 
little,  a  bit  dizzy,  but  it  is  nothing — let  us  go 
on."  She  glanced  about  them  for  the  horses. 
Her  own  lay  where  he  had  fallen,  his  leg 
broken. 

There  was  no  sign  of  the  other.  In  Eric's 
anxiety  over  Sylvia,  he  had  completely  forgot 
ten  him;  the  horse,  being  free,  had  taken  the 
opportunity  to  trot  contentedly  home.  Sylvia 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  dismay. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Kelpa!  "  the  tears,  which  her 
own  mishap  had  not  brought,  coming  quickly 
at  the  sight  of  her  favourite's  unhappy  fate. 
"  Is  his  leg  broken,  must  he  be  killed  ?" 

"  I  fear  so,  but  I  will  make  sure,"  said  Eric, 
going  over  to  the  horse.  It  required  only  a 
hasty  examination  to  see  that  the  bone  was  in 
deed  broken  and  that  there  was  no  help  for  the 
faithful  brute. 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  said  Eric.  "  Believe  me,  you 


233 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

have  my  whole  sympathy.  I  love  my  own 
horses  too  well  not  to  know  what  a  grief  this 
is  to  you.  But  I  can  only  think  of  your  nar 
row  escape  and  feel  thankful  that  you  are  un 
harmed.  My  chief  concern  now  is  to  get  you 
home,  for  it  is  growing  late  and  I  fear  that 
you  may  find  you  are  more  shaken  than  you 
think.  It  is  too  far  for  me  to  leave  you  to  go 
to  try  to  seek  aid.  I  fear  there  is  nothing  for 
us  to  do  but  to  go  on  until  we  meet  some  one. 
Are  you  sure  you  are  equal  to  it?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  indeed,"  said  Sylvia. 

She  found  when  she  was  on  her  feet  that 
she  was  rather  faint  and  dizzy,  and  but  for  the 
support  of  Eric's  arm  would  hardly  have  been 
able  to  stand;  but  at  the  sight  of  his  evident 
anxiety  she  started  on.  They  walked  slowly, 
stopping  often  for  Sylvia  to  rest,  a  precaution 
she  found  quite  necessary,  as  she  discovered  on 
moving  that  she  was  more  bruised  than  she 
had  supposed.  Their  progress  was  necessarily 
slow,  and  as  they  had  ridden  farther  than  they 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

had  realised,  it  was  a  long,  painful  journey 
back — painful  for  Sylvia,  in  spite  of  her  hap 
piness  in  a  realisation  of  a  new  quality  of  ten 
derness  in  Eric's  anxious  care  of  her.  Painful 
for  Eric  too — in  a  different  way — for  he  real 
ised  with  a  great  shock  what  this  beautiful 
girl,  leaning  trustfully  on  his  arm,  had  become 
to  him. 

At  last  his  eyes  were  opened  and  he  realised 
the  whole  unwelcome  truth — unwelcome  to  his 
ideas  of  constancy — he  was  untrue  to  his  own 
high  ideals — it  was  not  the  dead  Barbara,  but 
the  living  Sylvia  that  he  loved! 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


To  understand  Eric's  poignant  suffering 
over  the  discovery  that  his  love  for  his  lost 
sweetheart  was  merged  into  a  deeper  passion 
for  the  Countess  Sylvia,  one  must  understand 
his  early  training  better.  The  idol  of  Eric's 
boyhood  had  been  his  beautiful  mother.  The 
tie  between  them  was  exceptionally  close,  and 
young  as  he  was  when  she  had  died,  he  had 
never  forgotten  her  or  her  teachings.  She  had 
been  a  sensitively  organised,  highly  spiritual 
woman,  qualities  she  had  transmitted  in  an 
unusual  degree  to  her  son,  and  during  their 
years  together,  she  had  taught  him  not  only 
her  strong  religious  faith,  but  many  of  her 
individual  beliefs.  One  of  the  strongest  of 
these  was  her  conviction  that  true  love  could 
be  felt  but  once  by  any  human  heart,  and  that 
in  its  very  nature  and  essence  it  was  deathless 
and  immortal.  To  the  mother  and  therefore 
to  the  son,  it  would  have  seemed  impossible 

236 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

that  one  could  love  a  second  time.  It  had  been 
a  cardinal  article  of  her  faith  which  she  had 
impressed  upon  him  from  infancy  that  love 
was  divine  and  eternal,  and  that  death  there 
fore  was  a  temporary  parting  only,  which 
could  neither  lessen  love,  nor  break  the  bonds 
which  united  lovers.  So  firmly  did  Eric  be 
lieve  this,  that  even  as  he  had  stood  by  the 
mound  which  the  old  man  had  pointed  out  to 
him  as  Barbara's  grave,  after  the  first  awful 
shock,  his  >soul  had  turned  to  the  faith  of  his 
childhood.  He  had  felt  that  the  remainder  of 
his  existence  in  this  world  must  be  but  a  mere 
leaf  in  the  Book  of  Life,  and  that  as  soon  as 
Death  should  release  him,  he  could  hasten  to 
find  Barbara  again. 

Therefore,  as  this  belief  had  meant  every 
thing  to  him  for  the  last  three  years,  and  as 
he  had  believed  himself  to  belong  to  Barbara 
wholly  and  entirely,  the  sudden  realisation  of 
his  love  for  another  woman — even  though  he 
felt  that  his  love  for  her  had  sprung  up  from 

237 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

the  fact  of  her  great  resemblance  to  Barbara — 
was  a  realisation  that  shook  the  foundations  of 
his  every  idea  and  religious  belief,  and  left  him 
filled  with  unutterable  horror  at  his  own  un 
faithfulness  to  what  had  seemed  the  true  and 
only  love  of  his  life. 

That  night,  when  Eric  reached  his  own 
room,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and 
crossing  his  arms  on  a  table  next  which  he  sat, 
he  buried  his  head  in  them.  He  remained  mo 
tionless  for  a  long  time.  Finally  his  frame  was 
shaken  by  sobs — the  slow-coming,  agonising 
sobs  of  a  strong  man  suffering.  Never  before 
had  he  been  thus  moved.  Though  after 
Barbara's  death,  he  had  been  so  overcome 
with  sorrow  that  it  had  seemed  to  him  he 
could  not  live,  even  then  he  had  not  so  broken 
down. 

"  Barbara,"  he  cried,  "  look  down  and  save 
me!  Why  don't  you  come  back  and  restore 
my  reason?  I  believe  it  is  going.  Where  are 
you  Barbara?  Why  don't  you  come?" 

238 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

He  looked  up,  but  he  could  see  nothing — 
there  was  nothing  but  the  darkness.  The  lamp, 
as  he  sat  there,  had  burned  low,  had  flickered 
and  gone  out. 

"  She  has  deserted  me/'  he  moaned,  "  I  am 
left  in  utter  blackness.  O  God,  forgive  me, 
for  I  need  Thy  mercy !  " 

Then  he  sprang  up  and  turned  on  an  elec 
tric  light.  The  sudden  brightness  seemed  to 
send  a  glow  of  relief  through  his  frame.  He 
went  over  to  the  window  and  threw  it  open. 
The  night  outside  looked  very  peaceful  and 
still,  the  stars  were  twinkling  softly,  the  moon 
was  shedding  its  bright  light  on  all  below. 
Eric  stood  looking  dully  up  at  the  Heav.ens, 
his  mind  filled  with  agonising  thoughts. 

"  vSweet  Barbara,  send  down  your  forgive 
ness,  he  whispered  appealingly.  "  I  implore 
you,  though  I  do  not  deserve  it,  I  know — for 
I  have  been  a  traitor !  For  four  years  have  I 
loved  you,  worshipped  you  with  my  whole 
strength,  and  I  could  have  sworn  upon  my  soul 


239 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

that  I  would  so  have  loved  you  throughout 
eternity,  and  yet — oh  Heaven,  must  I  confess 
it?  To-day,  in  one  short  hour  I  find  I  love 
another.  It  is  true,  it  is  true!  " 

He  still  looked  up,  as  if  dimly  hoping  to 
find  response  to  his  confession,  but  only  the 
stars  were  there,  and  the  moon,  moving  swift 
ly  through  the  cloudless  sky. 

"  You  will  not  look  at  me,  nor  answer  me. 
sweet  Barbara?  Oh,  Heaven  help  me,  what 
am  I  to  do?" 

Suddenly  he  stepped  away  from  the  window 
and  drew  himself  up  very  erect.  He  closed 
his  lips  firmly,  squared  his  shoulders  and 
tossed  back  his  head,  a  way  he  had  of  doing 
when  he  was  very  much  in  earnest  and  had 
just  made  a  new  determination. 

"  I  must  either  tell  Sylvia  that  I  love  her, 
and  so  be  a  traitor  to  Barbara  in  deed  as  well 
as  in  thought,  or  I  must  go  away.  I  have  given 
myself  to  Barbara,  I  belong  to  her,  I  will  be 
true  to  that  pledge,  and  I  will  go  away.'* 


240 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

The  next  day  he  told  his  sister  that  he  was 
going  back  to  Egypt. 

She  looked  at  him  in  dismay. 

"Not  for  long?"  she  asked. 

"  I  do  not  know — perhaps — it  is  indefinite. 
I  have  a  good  deal  of  work  to  do,  which  is  best 
done  there." 

'  That  is  a  bitter  disappointment.  I  had  told 
myself  that  you  were  at  home  now  to  stay. 
What  shall  I  do  without  you  ?  " 

"  Won't  you  come  too  ?  We  can  stay  in 
Cairo  and  be  very  comfortable  there." 

"  I  will  consider  it,"  she  replied.  "  But  you 
won't  go  until  the  autumn,  will  you?  I  had 
promised  Lady  Raleigh  we  would  visit  her,  and 
she  wants  us  to  come  soon.  Won't  you  go  to 
England  with  me  first?  " 

Eric  had  decided  to  go  to  Egypt  at  once,  but 
if  it  was  going  to  please  his  sister,  he  would 
change  his  plans. 

"  Yes,  I  will  go,"  he  said.  "  When  do  you 
want  to  set  out  ?  " 


241 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

"  In  a  few  days,"  she  answered. 

That  afternoon  he  went  over  to  see  Sylvia 
and  made  a  very  short  call.  He  went  to  in 
quire  how  she  was,  after  the  accident  of  the 
day  before.  He  saw  only  the  Baroness,  as 
Sylvia  still  felt  rather  shaken  up.  When  he 
returned  home,  his  sister  told  him  that  she 
would  be  ready  to  leave  in  two  days.  The 
next  afternoon  Eric  decided  he  must  at  least  see 
Sylvia  for  a  formal  good-bye,  but  again  he  met 
only  the  Baroness.  She  told  him  that  Sylvia 
was  entirely  recovered,  but  that  she  had  per 
suaded  her  to  remain  in  her  room  for  a  few 
more  days  of  rest. 

"  Will  you  please  say  to  her  how  glad  I  am 
that  she  has  felt  no  serious  effects  from  her 
accident,  and  that  I  called  to  see  how  she  was 
and  say  good-bye." 

•  "  Good-bye  ?  You  are  going  early  this  year. 
We  do  not  leave  for  several  weeks.  Byt  you 
will  return  in  the  autumn,  of  course,  will  you 
not?" 


242 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  No,  I  expect  to  go  directly  to  Egypt  from 
England." 

"  Egypt  ?  Oh,  then  we  are  to  have  more 
charming  Egyptian  stories !  We  shall  be  sorry 
indeed  to  lose  you,  Mr.  Fielding,  but  glad  to 
be  at  least  partly  recompensed  for  our  loss  by 
more  tales  from  the  banks  of  the  Nile.  If  you 
will  wait  a  few  moments,  I  will  tell  Sylvia,  for 
I  know  she  would  want  to  say  good-bye  to  you 
herself." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad,"  replied  Eric,  "  if 
she  is  able  to  come  down,  but  if  she  is  too 
tired " 

"  Oh,  she  is  really  quite  well,  it  is  only  that 
she  needed  a  little  rest.  Excuse  me,  and  I  will 
call  her." 

When  the  Baroness  had  gone,  Eric  went 
over  to  one  of  the  windows  and  looked  out 
at  the  garden.  The  place  seemed  strangely 
quiet,  the  air  was  soft  and  warm,  the  flowers 
and  trees  seemed  to  Eric  more  beautiful,  more 
like  an  enchanted  Fairy-land  than  ever,  and  in 

243 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

a  few  short  hours  he  was  to  turn  his  back  on  it 
all  forever — never  to  come  here  again — never 
to  wait  here  in  this  room  for  its  fair  mistress ! 
He  closed  his  eyes,  he  did  not  know  how  long 
he  stood  there,  it  might  have  been  for  several 
moments,  and  it  might  have  been  for  merely  a 
second,  when  he  heard  a  low,  soft  voice  very 
near  him. 

"  I  am  so  very  sorry  to  hear  that  you  are 
going  away — and  for  so  long." 

He  turned  quickly.  Sylvia  stood  there,  a 
slender,  delicate  little  figure,  looking  up  at 
him  with  big,  wistful  eyes,  that  said  more  to 
him  than  her  words,  but  he  did  not  read  them, 
for  his  own  thoughts  were  filling  him  with  de 
spair.  As  he  looked  at  her,  a  great,  almost 
overpowering  longing  came  to  him  to  pick  her 
up  in  his  arms,  and  tell  her  that  she  was  his. 
his,  his — whether  she  would  or  not !  She  was 
so  dainty  and  fragile,  it  would  have  been  mere 
child's  play  to  his  great  strength.  But  he  stood 
very  still  until  he  could  control  his  desire. 

244 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

:<  Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  I  am  very  sorry 
too,  and  it  is  very  good  of  you  to  come  down 
when  I  know  you  are  not  yet  yourself  again. 
Are  you  really  feeling  nearly  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Sylvia,  turning  and  sinking 
into  the  nearest  chair.  "  I  have  quite  recov 
ered,  but  auntie  insisted  that  I  play  the  in 
valid  a  little  longer.  I  was  sorry  to  miss  you 
yesterday.  But  are  you  not  going  away  rather 
earlier  than  usual?  And  auntie  says  that  you 
are  going  to  Egypt  afterwards  ?  " 

''  Yes,"  answered  Eric. 

He  was  still  standing.  He  knew  that  he 
could  not  remain  with  her  longer,  he  could  not 
trust  himself;  if  he  were  to  stay,  even  for  only 
a  few  moments,  he  knew  that  he  would  tell  her 
how  he  loved  her,  he  knew  that  he  would  ask 
her  if  it  were  possible  for  her  ever  to  care  for 
him.  He  was  afraid,  and  so  he  said  hastily, 

"  I  fear  this  is  good-bye  for  a  long  time.  I 
want  to  thank  you  for  all  the  kindness  you  have 
shown  me.  I  am  so  glad  your  mishap  the 

245 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

other  day  was  not  serious — thank  you  again 
for  your  goodness — good-bye." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  He  had  not  the  least 
idea  what  he  had  been  saying  except  that  he 
had  been  able  to  hide  the  feeling  that  was 
struggling  to  express  itself.  He  knew  that 
these  few  formal  words  sounded  cold,  but  bet 
ter  that  than  to  betray  a  trace  of  the  fire  within. 

She  laid  her  hand  in  his  for  a  second,  it  was 
icy  cold,  but  he  was  too  excited  to  notice  it. 
She  drew  it  quickly  away  again  for  fear  he 
might  discover  that  she  was  trembling. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  He 
turned  quickly  and  left  her.  They  had  been  in 
the  library.  How  different  all  the  familiar  ob 
jects  looked  now — how  cold  and  deserted. 
Not  far  from  her  on  the  floor  stood  a  tall  vase 
filled  with  roses.  Unconsciously  Sylvia  moved 
nearer  these,  the  roses  seemed  to  be  the  only 
bit  of  colour  in  the  room.  She  put  her  slender 
fingers  about  one  and  looked  down  at  it 
caressingly. 

246 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  It  is  all  over,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  a 
voice  which  seemed  filled  with  sobs,  "  all 
over.  Even  the  joy  I  felt  before — is  gone.  I 
have  not  even  that  now,  it  is  entirely  ended. 
I  wish  I  were  like  one  of  these  roses — to  live 
and  bloom  but  for  a  day — then  let  everything 
fade  away.  How  contented  one  could  be  to 
lie  down  and  fall  into  an  endless,  dreamless 
sleep — forgetting  all  things,  and  being  in  turn 
forgotten." 


247 


CHAPTER   XXV 


Miss  FIELDING  had  promised  her  friend 
Lady  Raleigh  to  visit  her  for  several  weeks, 
but  Eric  intended  to  stay  at  Raleigh  Court  a 
few  days  only,  as  he  knew  its  host,  Lord 
Richard  Raleigh,  very  slightly,  and  although 
he  was  glad  to  please  his  sister,  he  was  rest 
less  to  get  away  from  all  those  he  knew. 
Although  Lady  Raleigh  was  a  widow,  she  still 
cared  a  great  deal  for  society  and  liked  to  fill 
the  house  full  of  her  own  friends  and  those  of 
her  children,  Richard  and  Lillian.  Lady 
Raleigh  had  visited  America  several  times  with 
her  daughter,  and  one  was  always  sure  to  find 
a  large  representation  from  the  United  States 
at  her  house  parties. 

Eric  and  his  sister  had  arrived  late  one  after 
noon,  and  upon  entering  the  drawing-room, 
Lord  Raleigh  presented  Eric  to  the  others 
already  there.  He  first  met  a  pretty  little 
widow,  Lady  Beatrice  Maxwell,  and  next  to 

248 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

her  he  saw  Edith  Laurence.  Edith  looked  up 
at  him  and  smiled.  She  had  heard  of  his  com 
ing,  and  had  prepared  the  manner  in  which  she 
would  treat  him.  She  intended  to  be  pleasant, 
but  most  indifferent,  for  slu  had  long  ago 
found  how  impossible  it  was  to  stir  him  to  a 
single  spark  of  feeling.  And  then  too,  she 
had  heard  a  great  deal  about  his  attentions  to 
a  certain  Countess  in  Nice,  from  Lady  Bea 
trice,  who  seined  to  be  posted  on  all  social  af 
fairs,  even  as  far  off  as  the  Riviera. 

That  night,  after  every  one  had  retired, 
Edith  slipped  across  to  Lady  Beatrice's  room 
which  was  just  opposite  her  own.  They  sat 
before  a  fire  in  the  grate,  as  so  many  women 
love  to  do,  when  the  hour  is  very  late. 

The  last  conversation  they  had  had  together 
had  been  about  Eric,  and  now  they  resumed  it. 

"  And  have  you  ever  seen  this  Countess  to 
whom  he  has  been  so  attentive  all  winter  ?  " 
asked  Edith. 

"  Yes.  I  have  seen  her  several  times.     She 


249 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

really  is  unusually  lovely,  and  she  certainly  is 
fascinating — '  La  Bella  Comtessa  ' — as  she  is 
called  all  through  Italy.  I  call  her  '  The  Siren 
of  the  Mediterranean  " — the  men  go  to  Nice — 
meet  her — and  the  rest  of  us  are  forgotten." 

"  I  think  you  must  be  exaggerating  it,"  said 
Edith. 

"  No,  I  find  that  this  is  true  from  experi 
ence.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  something. 
Before  I  married  Lord  Maxwell,  I  was  very 
much — very  fond  of  Lord  Raleigh.  I  be 
lieve  he  liked  me  also.  But  he  went  to  the 
Continent,  he  went  to  Nice — and  there  he 
stayed.  Before  long,  I  heard  rumours  of  this 
Countess  with  whom  he  had  fallen  desperately 
in  love.  You  can  imagine  my  feeling!  Well, 
to  show  him  that  I  did  not  care,  I  married  Lord 
Maxwell.  That  was  four  years  ago.  Poor, 
dear  Maxwell,  he  did  not  know  what  a  fraud  I 
was — that  I  had  married  him  merely  from 
pique.  But  I  will  do  myself  the  justice  to  say 
that  I  was  a  good  wife.  Then,  as  you  know, 

250 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

Lord  Maxwell  died.  When  I  saw  Lord  Raleigh 
again,  I  heard  that  it  was  all  over  with  the 
Countess,  she  had  evidently  refused  him,  and 
he  had  come  back  home  to  try  to  forget.  This 
was  a  pleasant  thought  to  me — to  feel  that  he 
did  not  marry  her  merely  because  she  would 
not  have  him!  So  I  treated  him  very  coolly 
and  indifferently.  I  flirted  awfully  with  the 
other  men,  so  he  never  dreamed  that  I  even  re 
membered  our  former  little  affair.  This  stirred 
him  up  a  bit,  and  now — well — now  I  have  him 
again  where  I  want  him.  My  dear,  if  you 
want  a  man  to  fall  in  love  with  you,  show  him 
that  there  are  many  others  far  more  attractive 
than  he  is — never  let  him  think  that  he  is  any 
thing  to  you." 

Edith  felt  a  flush  mounting  to  her  cheek, 
she  was  thinking  that  this  good  piece  of  advice 
had  come  to  her  rather  late.  She  rose — 
kissed  Lady  Beatrice,  thanking  her  for  her  con 
fidence,  and  said  good  night.  When  she  was 
in  her  own  room  again,  she  stood  for  some 

251 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

time  before  the  dressing-table  looking  at  a 
photograph  which  stood  there.  It  was  one 
Eric  had  given  her  when  they  had  been  en 
gaged,  and  she  had  kept  it  and  taken  it  every 
where  with  her. 

"  And  so  you  are  in  love  with  a  beautiful 
Italian?  And  I? — I  am  the  same  old  fool. 
Ah,  well,  so  the  world  goes.  But  my  curiosity 
is  aroused,  I  will  some  day  have  a  look  at  this 
Countess  who  wins  all  hearts.  I  wonder  if  it 
is  a  possible  thing  that  she  cannot  care  for 
Eric  in  return?"  A  wicked  little  smile  crept 
into  Edith's  face.  "  I  hope  so,  it  would  do 
Eric  such  a  world  of  good  to  be  refused — and 
I — I  should  be  revenged !  " 

But  Edith  knew  that  all  Lady  Beatrice  had 
told  her  might  not  be  the  exact  facts  in  the  case. 
She  intended  to  find  out  the  truth  for  herself. 
She  had  not  seen  Eric  for  three  years,  not  since 
that  night  in  Newport  when  she  had  sent  him 
away,  but  she  had  heard  many  things  of  him 
since  that  time — his  going  to  Egypt  for  so  long 

252 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

— she  remembered  the  girl  he  had  said  that  he 
loved,  and  she  supposed  then  that  this  girl 
must  have  died ;  but  a  sudden  thought  came  to 
her,  perhaps,  instead,  it  was  this  same 
Countess  ?  Why  not  ?  He  might  have  met  her 
in  Europe  and  have  gone  to  see  her  before  he 
went  to  Egypt.  If  he  really  was  in  love  with 
this  Countess  now,  it  must  be  the  same  one,  for 
Edith  knew  Eric  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to 
love  twice.  While  she  tried  to  puzzle  all  this 
out,  she  became  more  and  more  convinced  that 
she  was  correct,  and  that  there  had  been  only 
one  girl  all  the  time — this  Countess.  She  also 
remembered — Edith  had  an  unusually  good 
memory — a  certain  evening  after  his  return 
from  Italy,  when  she  had  discovered  him  so  in 
tent  on  thoughts  of  Venice  and  a  girl  he  had 
seen  there. 

"  The  very  same  girl !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
am  sure  of  it.  Though  he  said  he  had  seen  her 
but  twice,  it  was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight. 
Heavens,  what  a  wonder  that  girl  must  be  to 

253 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

have  captivated  a  man  like  Eric  so  suddenly 
and  held  him  so  strongly  that  a  whole  year 
later  he  was  as  much  in  love  as  ever !  " 

The  next  day  Edith  learned  more,  she  found 
that  Eric  was  going  to  Egypt  directly  from 
England,  for  an  indefinite  period. 

"  He  has  been  refused  again,"  she  thought, 
"  I  can  read  it  in  his  face  as  easily  as  in  a 
book,  and  the  fact  of  his  going  back  to  bury 
himself  in  Egypt  again  proves  it.  But  I  must 
meet  this  Countess;  such  a  woman  interests 
me." 

During  the  few  days  longer  that  Eric  re 
mained  at  Raleigh  Court,  Edith  saw  little  or 
nothing  of  him,  and  heard  no  more  of  the 
fair  unknown,  but  her  determination  to  see  the 
woman  she  believed  to  be  her  successful  rival 
grew  stronger  with  the  thought  of  her.  Edith 
had  come  to  Europe  with  some  friends  for  an 
indefinite  time.  She  knew  that  Nice  was  de 
serted  in  summer.  She  waited  in  England 
until  September  came,  then  she  asked  her 

254 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

friends  if  they  did  not  want  to  spend  a  few 
weeks  in  Nice.  They  took  rooms  at  one  of 
the  hotels  on  the  Promenade  des  Anglais,  and 
as  they  found  many  Americans  there  whom 
they  knew,  Edith's  friends  agreed  with  her 
that  it  would  be  pleasant  to  remain  there  some 
time. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  of  her 
arrival,  Edith  first  saw  Sylvia.  Dick  Ames 
Philip  Monroe  and  others  whom  she  had 
known  in  New  York,  had  come  to  call  at  once 
upon  hearing  that  she  was  there.  And  this 
afternoon  Dick  had  asked  her  to  drive  with 
him.  They  were  passing  the  public  gardens, 
and  at  that  particular  spot  there  were  so  many 
carriages  that  they  were  obliged  to  move 
slowly.  Edith  was  looking  about  at  the  bril 
liant  assemblage,  when  she  suddenly  gave  a 
little  exclamation. 

"  What  a  beauty !  "  she  said  involuntarily. 

She  had  caught  sight  of  a  girl  who  sat  be 
side  Philip  Monroe  in  a  high  cart  passing  very 

255 


SYLVIA  :    The  STORY  of 

near  their  own.  Dick  looked  in  the  same  di 
rection.  He  smiled. 

"  Who  is  she?  "  asked  Edith,  but  before  her 
question  was  answered,  she  knew  that  it  must 
be  the  Countess. 

"  She  is  the  Countess  Sylvia." 

"Ah!" 

Dick  looked  at  her,  a  little  amused. 

"  You  have  heard  of  her?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  her  beauty,  and  I  ad 
mit  that  I  was  anxious  to  see  her.  Now  that 
I  have,  I  do  not  wonder  that  her  beauty  has 
become  famous." 

That  evening  Dick  was  calling  on  Sylvia. 

"  A  New  York  girl,  a  friend  of  mine,  of 
Eric's,  Philip's,  and  all  of  us,  is  here  now,"  he 
said.  "  It  would  be  so  good  of  you  if  you 
would  call  on  her.  She  is  of  course  a  stranger 
and  knows  no  one  here  except  the  few  New 
Yorkers." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  call,"  said  Sylvia.  "  I 
will  go  to-morrow.  You  know  how  delighted 

256 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

I  always  am  to  meet  Americans  and  do  what  I 
can  for  them." 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Dick,  "  I  am  sure 
she  will  appreciate  it,  as  she  is  to  be  here  for 
several  weeks." 


257 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


THE  next  afternoon  found  Sylvia  at  the 
hotel  at  which  Edith  was  staying.  Edith  did 
not  ask  her  up  to  her  own  suite  of  rooms,  but 
received  her  in  one  of  the  hotel  drawing- 
rooms. 

Sylvia  remained  some  time,  much  longer 
than  she  usually  stayed  for  a  mere  formal  visit. 
When  she  had  gone,  and  Edith  had  returned  to 
her  own  room,  she  threw  herself  on  a  luxu 
rious  divan  which  stood  in  one  corner.  She 
put  her  hand  up  to  her  throat,  it  was  hurting 
her,  and  she  became  conscious  that  she  was 
shivering. 

"  I  know  that  I  am  a  fool !  "  she  said  sav 
agely,  "  I  have  admitted  it  many  times,  have  I 
not?  But  never  was  I  such  a  fool  as  now, 
to  have  come  here  to  this  place,  to  see  her! 
Why  could  I  not  have  stayed  away?  I  would 
have,  if  I  had  known,  if  I  had  known  what  this 
agony  would  be  when  I  saw  her.  I  have  been 

258 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

tortured  with  jealousy  before,  but  it  has  never 
been  so  terible  as  this.  Before,  I  only  imagined 
what  the  girl  he  loved  was  like,  but  now  I  have 
come    face   to    face   with    her!      I    hate    her! 
Heavens,  what  a  divine  face  she  has.  No  won 
der  the  men  go  crazy  over  her,  no  wonder  Eric 
was  won  even  from  a  glance."    She  sprang  up, 
clinching  her  hands  fiercely.     "  I  want  to  hurt 
her!  "  cried  Edith.  "  I  want  to  crush  her!  She 
has  no  right  to  be  so  beautiful,  she  has  no  right 
to  be  so  fascinating  that  a  man  like  Eric  will 
adore  her  the  moment  he  sees  her — she  has  no 
right — it  is  too  much !    She  stole  Eric  from  me 
when  I  believed  he  was  mine,  she  has  ruined 
my  life.     Why  could  she  not  be  content  with 
the  others?     Why  need  she  take  Eric?     She 
does  not  care  for  him?    No,  that  is  proved  by 
his  going  away,  and  she  stays  placidly  here, 
smiling  calmly  over  her  triumphs.     One  man 
more  or  less,  makes  no  difference  to  her,  what 
does  she  care  that  Eric  adores  her?  He  is  only 
one  of  all  the  others  whom  she  throws  over. 


259 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

But — "  Edith  moved  quickly  back  and  forth  in 
the  room — "  she  shall  learn  to  feel,  she  shall 
learn  to  suffer,  she  too,  shall  have  her  heart 
wrung — and  then  the  pain  in  mine  will  cease!  " 
From  that  time  on,  Edith  spent  many  hours 
in  trying  to  think  of  a  way  to  gain  her  end. 
Whenever  she  was  thrown  with  the  Countess, 
which  was  often,  as  all  those  who  had  the  ad 
mittance  to  Sylvia's  hous'e,  found  all  other 
doors  open  likewise,  each  time  that  Edith  was 
with  her,  she  studied  her,  she  watched  her,  and 
found  out  in  every  way  possible  what  her  life 
was,  who  were  the  people  she  liked  and  who 
were  those  she  disliked.  It  had  very  soon  oc 
curred  to  Edith  that  if  Sylvia  cared  somewhat 
for  any  man,  if  she  could  discover  that  man 
and  take  him  away  from  her,  in  that  she  could 
wreak  her  revenge.  Edith  knew  that  this 
would  be  a  difficult  thing  to  do,  if  the  unknown 
man  was  in  love  with  the  Countess,  but  Edith 
knew  that  she  herself  also  had  the  power  of 
charming  men,  and  that  if  she  put  her  whole 

260 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

energy  into  it,  she  might  win.  Other  men  were 
not  like  Eric,  she  feared  failure  with  no  one 
else. 

One  morning  Sylvia  had  come  to  ask  Edith 
to  take  a  drive  with  her.  Edith  had  remained 
in  bed  unusually  late,  and  was  not  dressed 
when  Sylvia  came.  She  sent  word  for  her  to 
come  up  to  her  own  parlour,  saying  she  would 
be  ready  in  a  few  moments.  Sylvia  had  never 
happened  to  come  up  to  Edith's  room  before, 
and  she  looked  about  with  interest  at  all  the 
different  photographs  and  knick-knacks  which 
Edith  always  carried  with  her.  Edith  had 
many  friends,  and  some  celebrated  ones,  so  that 
her  collection  of  photographs  was  especially 
interesting.  Sylvia  grew  absorbed  in  looking 
at  them,  scarcely  realising  that  the  moments 
were  flying.  Suddenly  she  caught  sight  of  a 
photograph  of  Eric.  It  stood  on  the  mantel 
shelf  in  a  gold  frame.  She  had  never  happened 
to  see  his  picture  before;  their  friendship  had 
not  grown  intimate  enough  for  them  to  ex- 

261 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

change  photographs,  and  she  had  never  before 
known  any  one  who  had  owned  one.  There 
fore  it  took  her  completely  by  surprise.  She 
looked  at  it  devouringly  for  some  moments,  his 
eyes  looked  back  at  her  so  naturally,  that  they 
almost  seemed  to  speak.  She  forgot  where  she 
was,  she  forgot  whose  photograph  it  was,  she 
forgot  everything  in  an  irresistible  impulse. 
She  picked  it  up  quickly  and  pressed  her  lips  to 
it  passionately.  "  Dearest,"  she  said. 

Edith  had  a  way  of  always  entering  a  room 
noiselessly.  She  prided  herself  on  being  some 
what  of  a  student  of  human  nature,  and  she  be 
lieved  that  a  great  deal  could  be  learned  in 
coming  upon  people  unawares.  Of  course 
when  there  was  a  door  to  be  opened  first,  it 
was  impossible  to  be  noiseless,  but  when  she 
could  enter  a  room,  having  first  looked  into  it 
from  an  adjoining  apartment,  she  could  linger 
a  moment  silently  on  the  threshold  before  en 
tering,  and  thus  discover  people  as  they  really 
were  before  they  became  conscious  of  her  pres- 

262 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

ence.  This  had  been  in  her  mind  as  she  had 
left  her  room  and  crossed  the  room  between 
that  and  the  one  in  which  she  knew  the 
Countess  was  waiting.  She  had  reached  the 
entrance  at  the  very  moment  when  Sylvia  had 
first  caught  sight  of  Eric's  picture,  and  thus 
she  had  witnessed  the  whole  tableau.  She  also 
heard  the  little  whispered,  "  Dearest  "  and  that 
was  enough.  She  turned,  retreating  as  silently 
as  she  had  come.  In  her  own  room  she  sank 
into  a  chair.  The  sudden  excitement  that  her 
discovery  had  caused  almost  overpowered  her. 

"  Marvellous !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  can 
scarcely  believe  it!  She  loves  him — and  he 
does  not  love  her!  Of  course  he  does  not,  or 
why  did  he  not  tell  her  so  ?  And  he  is  in  Egypt, 
for  an  indefinite  period!  Ah — Fate  is  at  last 
with  me.  I  can  have  my  revenge !  " 

She  went  back  to  the  room  in  which  Sylvia 
was,  but  this  time  she  went  noisily  so  that 
Sylvia  should  hear  hjer  approach  and  have 
time  to  put  the  picture  back.  She  found  her 

263 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

standing  in  the  other  part  of  the  room,  appar 
ently  very  much  absorbed  in  a  photograph  of 
a  certain  celebrated  opera  singer,  although 
Edith's  quick  eye  detected  the  effort  she  was 
making  to  seem  calm  and  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

"  I  am  v.ery  sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting 
so  long,"  said  Edith  going  over  to  her.  "  It 
was  unpardonable  of  me  to  have  been  so  lazy 
this  morning." 

"  Oh,  do  not  apologise,"  said  Sylvia,  "  I 
have  not  minded  waiting  in  the  least,  I  have 
been  looking  at  some  of  your  photographs." 

This  was  the  very  reply  Edith  had  hoped 
that  she  would  make. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  take  an  interest  in 
them.-  I  really  am  rather  proud  of  my  Collec 
tion.  Let  me  tell  you  a  few  of  their  names,  of 
course  you  know  many  of  them,  but  I  believe 
I  must  have  one  or  two  American  celebrities 
whom  you  have  probably  never  met."  She 
named  several  of  them,  gradually  moving 

264 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

around  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  in  front 
of  Eric's  picture. 

"Of  course  this  man  you  probably  know 
very  well,"  she  said,  taking  up  the  picture,  "  as 
I  believe  he  has  been  here  in  Nice.  We  are 
very  proud  of  him — you  cannot  blame  us? 
Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  tell  you  this,  you 
might  not  be  interested — but  sometimes  I  like 
to  take  a  glance  back  into  the  past,  when  I  am 
with  a  friend.  I  do  not  of  course  believe  in 
boasting  of  one's  admirers,  but  he  has  become 
so  famous  now,  I  can  but  be  proud  of  the  fact 
that  we  were  once  engaged."  She  did  not  look 
up,  she  wanted  to  give  Sylvia  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  she  could  not  have  observed 
her  sudden  startled  expression.  Edith  kept  on 
looking  down  at  the  picture  she  held  in  her 
hand  and  continued,  "  I  almost — I  sometimes 
wish  that  I  had  not  thrown  him  over.  I  really 
cannot  understand  how  it  was  that  I  could  not 
love  him.  He  is  certainly  fascinating,  I  admit 
that,  and  when  I  accepted  him  of  course  I  be- 

265 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

lieved  that  I  loved  him — but  I  found  it  was  only 
pity  after  all.  It  is  difficult  for  a  woman  to 
define  the  difference  between  love  and  pity,  is 
it  not?  When  a  man  adores  you  so,  when  he 
begs  for  your  love,  it  is  hard  to  resist  ?  Well, 
you  see  I  could  not  resist,  at  least  at  first,  I 
gave  in — but  finally,  I  found  I  should  not  have 
done  so.  Pity  is  not  love — and  therefore  I  had 
to  tell  him  so.  He  took  it  bravely — I  almost 
loved  him  for  that — and  then  he  went  away. 
You  may  have  heard  of  his  going  to  Egypt.  I 
supposed  of  course  he  had  gotten  all  over  it, 
and  I  was  so  glad,  no  true  woman  can  be  any 
thing  but  glad  to  have  it  so,  when  she  cannot 
give  herself  to  the  man  that  loves  her — 
but  this  summer,  ah,  my  dear,  I  saw  him  again 
in  England,  he  told  me  again  that  it  was  just 
the  same  with  him  as  ever,  but,  well,  it  was 
impossible.  I  had  to  send  him  away  once 

more.     It  really "  she  felt  about  for  her 

handkerchief.  She  had  managed  to  bring  some 
genuine  tears  to  her  eyes,  they  were  always  so 

266 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

effective,'  and  then  they  would  make  the 
Countess  believe  her  even  more  unobserv- 
ing. 

"  But  mercy,  how  selfish  of  me,  and  how 
conceited,  to  keep  you  standing  here  listening 
to  an  old  love  affair — it  is  old,  for  it  is  so  en 
tirely  in  the  past,  he  will  never  ask  me  again, 
he  knows  it  is  useless — but  forgive  me  for 
talking  so  long  about  myself!  And  I  have 
not  even  thanked  you  for  coming  to  take  me 
to  drive!  Ah,  you  do  not  know  how  good  it 
is  in  you.  I  shall  just  love  to  go.  You  see  / 
have  my  hat  on.  I  shall  not  need  a  jacket,  shall 
I?  I  see  that  you  have  none." 

Sylvia  was  somewhat  of  an  actress — that  is, 
she  could  be,  if  she  tried,  and  she  had  been 
schooling  herself  for  the  last  three  or  four 
months — her  whole  life  had  become  to  her  a 
mere  stage  on  which  she  was  to  play  a  part — 
a  part  of  laughter  and  gaiety,  through  which 
there  must  never  creep  the  least  sign  of  what 
lay  underneath — and  so  she  had  quickly  been 

267 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

able  to  control  her  emotion.  She  looked  at 
Edith  smilingly. 

"  It  is  delightfully  warm  this  morning.  I 
thought  we  would  go  for  a  drive  into  the  woods 
somewhere,  and  then  I  want  to  take  you  home 
with  me  to  lunch.  I  have  invited  a  few  others 
to  come  also,  although  most  informally,  but 
there  is  a  very  celebrated  musician  here  from 
Russia,  a  pianist,  and  I  wanted  you  all  to  meet 
him,  he  has  promised  to  play  for  us  after 
ward." 

"  How  delicious !  "  exclaimed  Edith. 

Late  that  afternoon,  when  it  was  growing 
dark,  Sylvia  stood  a  moment  in  the  drawing- 
rrom — the  last  of  her  guests  had  just  gone. 
She  stepped  into  the  garden;  she  felt  suffo 
cated  and  wanted  to  be  in  the  open  air.  Her 
aunt  was  on  the  verandah  and  was  just  about 
to  call  her  to  come  back,  as  they  must  dress 
for  a  dinner  party  they  were  to  attend  that 
evening,  when  her  words  were  stopped  with  an 
exclamation  of  horror.  She  saw  Sylvia  sud- 

268 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

denly  totter  and  fall.  The  Baroness  ran 
quickly  down  to  her  and  called  a  servant,  and 
they  carried  her  up  to  her  room,  where  they 
worked  for  some  time  before  they  were  able  to 
restore  her  to  consciousness.  When  Sylvia  was 
able  to  speak,  she  insisted  that  she  was  not 
hurt,  it  had  merely  been  a  faint. 

"  But  you  must  let  us  put  you  to  bed,"  said 
the  Baroness.  "  I  will  send  word  that  we  can 
not  go  to  the  dinner.  I  would  not  think  of  your 
trying  to  get  up.  Dear  child,  I  am  worried  to 
death  about  you.  You  have  never  seemed 
strong  since  that  nasty  fall  last  spring.  I  am 
afraid  it  hurt  you  in  some  way,  after  all.  I 
intend  to  send  at  once  for  that  expert  from 
Paris,  to  see  if  he  can  tell  what  it  is." 

Sylvia  took  her  aunt's  hand  and  smiled  up  at 
her,  a  sad,  wan  little  smile,  that  went  straight 
to  the  kindly  woman's  heart  and  made  a  lump 
in  her  throat. 

"  I  am  sure  he  will  find  nothing  the  mat 
ter,"  said  Sylvia.  "Do  not  worry,  auntie  dear, 

269 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

I  am  perfectly  well,  I  shall  be  myself  again 
some  day,  soon — very  soon." 

When  Sylvia  was  ready  to  go  to  sleep  for 
the  night  and  the  Baroness  had  left  her,  hav 
ing  sat  at  her  bedside  for  several  hours,  Sylvia 
turned  her  face  toward  the  window.  It  was 
thrown  wide  open,  the  moon  shone  through  it, 
and  she  could  see  the  stars  far  away ;  she  heard 
a  soft  night  breeze  rustling  the  leaves,  and 
from  some  tree  near  by  she  could  hear  the  clear, 
silvery  notes  of  a  nightingale,  but  his  song 
seemed  to  be  an  unutterably  sad  one.  Sylvia 
lay  there  very  quiet  and  still  listening  to  the 
bird's  plaintive  notes.  One  soft,  dimpled  arm 
was  thrown  above  her  head,  the  two  heavy 
braids  of  her  glorious  hair  lying  on  the  white 
coverlet.  She  breathed  a  little  sigh,  and  whis 
pered  a  passionate  prayer  to  her  Heavenly 
Father,  "  Dear  Lord,  if  it  be  Thy  will  that  I 
should  live,  I  pray  Thee  teach  me  to  cease  to 
love  him — I  cannot  live  and  bear  it  longer." 


270 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


ONE  afternoon,  a  few  days  later,  Philip 
came.  He  found  Sylvia  alone,  It  was  a 
glorious  afternoon,  the  air  was  balmy,  but  not 
too  warm. 

"  I  wish,"  said  Sylvia,  as  they  sat  on  the 
verandah,  "  that  there  was  something-  we  could 
do.  Why  not  take  a  walk?  It  is  such  a  long 
time  since  I  have  taken  a  long  walk ;  one  drives 
and  rides  so  much  here,  that  walking  is  for 
gotten." 

"  I  would  like  nothing  better,"  said  Philip, 
"  shall  we  go  down  by  the  shore?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Sylvia. 

It  was  some  distance  to  the  beach,  but  when 
they  reached  it,  they  strolled  along  the  water's 
edge  for  several  miles,  the  sand  was  so  smooth 
and  hard,  they  scarcely  realised  how  far  they 
were  going.  Presently  they  noticed  that  the 
sky,  which  had  been  so  clear  all  day,  had  sud 
denly  clouded  over,  they  also  heard  thunder. 

271 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  I  fear  there  is  going  to  be  a  heavy  storm," 
said  Philip. 

The  clouds  were  gathering  thick  and  fast 
above  their  heads  and  were  large  and  dark;  it 
had  already  begun  to  rain. 

"  You  will  be  drenched,"  said  Philip,  look 
ing  at  Sylvia  aghast. 

"  We  are  at  least  an  hour's  distance  from 
home  and  a  half  hour  from  any  house." 

He  looked  about  them  eagerly  to  see  if  he 
could  not  discover  some  shelter.  He  saw  some 
very  large  rocks  near  by,  three  of  which  seemed 
to  form  a  cave. 

"  Come  over  to  those  rocks,"  he  said  hurry 
ing  Sylvia  towards  them.  He  rolled  in  two 
smaller  stones  to  serve  as  seats,  and  as  the  rocks 
met  overhead  it  was  as  dry  in  this  natural 
cave  as  if  it  had  been  a  room. 

Philip,  in  spite  of  his  conscience  pricking 
him  a  little  at  bringing  her  so  far  and  allowing 
her  to  get  caught  in  a  storm,  was  unspeakably 
happy.  In  reality,  now  that  it  could  not  be 

272 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

helped,  he  was  extremely  grateful  to  the  storm 
for  keeping  them  here  and  allowing  him  to  sit 
beside  her  for  an  indefinite  period — perhaps 
two  or  three  hours !  It  was  only  three  o'clock, 
it  would  take  them  only  an  hour  to  return,  so 
they  could  wait  at  least  two  hours  for  the 
storm  to  pass. 

Philip  was  watching  Sylvia.  He  had  never 
seen  her  look  so  lovely.  Her  hair  curled  about 
her  face  in  the  most  bewitching  manner  from 
the  dampness,  she  was  a  little  pale,  but  it  was 
from  a  wistfulness  of  expression,  which  was 
more  becoming  than  a  smile  could  be.  The 
corners  of  her  mouth  drooped,  and  her  eyes 
were  moist  with  tears. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Philip  gently. 

She  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  him  with 
out  saying  anything  for  a  few  moments. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  know,"  she  answered  at 
last,"  I  would  like  to  be  the  rain  and  melt  like 
tears." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  could  ever  feel 


273 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

sad,"  he  said.  "  I  have  never  seen  you  in  this 
mood  before — you  have  always  been  so 
joyful." 

"  Ah,"  said  Sylvia,  "  can  any  one  always  be 
the  same?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  slowly,  thinking  of  him 
self.  "  I  know  some  one  who  can.  I  have 
felt  the  same  always — ever  since  that  first  day 
I  saw  you  in  Venice.  I  have  loved  you  ever 
since,  and  I  fear  that  I  shall  love  you  more 
every  hour  of  my  life.  Can  you  not  love  me, 
dear?  Won't  you  change  your  mind,  and 
marry  me  ?  " 

"  I  cannot,"  she  answered  simply. 

"You  can  never  love  me?" 

"  I  like  you  very  much,"  she  said,  "  but 
nothing  more." 

A  sudden  thought  came  to  him.  He  must 
know. 

"  Do  you  love  some  one  else?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  she  said,  avoiding  a 
direct  reply. 

274 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 


"  Never?  You  think  so  because  you  do  not 
yet  love  any  one,  when  you  do,  you  will  want 
to  marry  him.  You  are  just  the  girl  to  be 
happy  with  some  man — some  man  who  could 
devote  his  life  to  you,  who  could  care  for  you 
with  all  his  strength,  and  worship  you,  who 
would  try  to  make  Heaven  on  Earth  for  you — 
if  you  could  give  yourself  to  him." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  she  said,  "  but  that 
time  will  never  come." 

"  Why  ?  is  your  ideal  so  high  ?  Can  you  not 
stoop  to  one  of  us  poor  men?  " 

"It  is  not  that,"  she  answered. 

"  Then  if  you  are  not  looking  for  an  ideal, 
why  won't  you  marry  me?  If  you  like  me, 
and  say  you  shall  never  love  any  one,  won't 
you  marry  me  ?  " 

"  You  would  not  want  me  if  I  could  not  give 
you  my  heart,  would  you  ?  "  said  Sylvia,  in 
wonderment. 

"  Yes,  I  want  you  desperately,  even  without 
your  love.  I  want  you  so  much,  that  I  wish 

275 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

that  I  could  carry  you  off  by  brute  force. — I 
am  strong  and  could  do  it  if  you  would  let 
me." 

"  How  strange !  "  she  said.  "  I  should  think 
you  would  rather  have  some  other  girl  who 
could  give  you  her  love." 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  you  cannot  under 
stand  how  I  love  you,  if  you  can  think  that." 

A  great  pity  arose  in  Sylvia's  heart  for  the 
man  sitting  beside  her.  Did  he  love  her  then 
as  she  loved  Eric  ?  Was  she  more  to  him  than 
all  the  rest  of  the  world  put  together  ?  How  he 
must  suffer ! 

She  looked  out  at  the  rain ;  it  seemed  to  shut 
her  in,  it  seemed  to  be  whispering  to  her  that 
if  she  could  not  have  happiness,  why  should  she 
not  give  it?  What  was  her  life  for?  Would  it 
not  be  more  noble  to  make  this  sacrifice,  than 
to  go  on,  as  she  had,  bringing  joy  and  peace, 
to  no  one?  It  was  a  woman's  duty  to  bring 
joy  and  peace,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
ought  to  do  it  now.  Eric  was  lost  to  her ;  not 

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An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

only  did  he  not  love  her,  but,  as  she  now  knew, 
he  loved  another.  Philip  asked  for  so  little, 
why  should  she  not  make  his  life  complete,  as 
hers  could  never  be?  Surely  out  of  the  depths 
of  her  own  heartache  she  could  understand,  as 
she  had  never  done  before,  what  his  years  of 
sorrow  had  been. 

At  last  she  spoke. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  that  if — if  you  want 
me  as  I  am,  knowing  that  I  do  not  love  you, 
that  I  will  marry  you." 

For  an  instant  Philip  seemed  unable  to  speak 
or  move,  his  joy  was  so  great  at  her  words 
that  it  overpowered  him.  Then  he  took  one  of 
her  hands  reverently  and  tenderly  and  kissed  it. 

"  You  are  an  angel ! "  he  said,  "  and  I  do 
not  deserve  it.  But  I  shall  pray  God  that  I 
may  make  you  happy." 

"  I  am  sure  that  you  will,"  she  said  softly. 

Then  she  was  silent  a  moment — a  little  line 
came  between  her  brows  as  if  her  thoughts 
troubled  her.  She  drew  in  a  deep  breath  and 

277 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

spoke  quickly,  as  if  it  hurt  her,  and  she  wanted 
to  hurry. 

"  But  first — first  I  must  tell  you  something-. 
It  has  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  could  not 
bear  to  breathe  it  to  a  soul — but  now  it  is 
different — it  is  only  right  that  you  should  hear 
it.  If  I  am  going  to  be  your  wife,  I  ought  to 
tell  you,  I  cannot  keep  such  a  secret  from 
you." 

"  Do  not  tell  me,  dear,  if  you  would  rather 
not."  he  said.  "  You  must  not  feel  that  you 
ought  to  do  anything.  You  are  to  do  every 
thing  that  makes  you  happy  and  nothing  that 
would  grieve  you." 

"  Thank  you,  Philip,"  she  said.  "  But  this 
— yes,  it  would  make  me  feel  better  if  I  told 
you.  You  are  so  big  and  sympathetic,  I  can 
confide  my  trouble  in  you  and  I  know  you  will 
understand.  You  will  not  blame  me,  but  will 
help  me  bear  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  try,  dear  heart,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  this,  Philip.     It  is  that  I— that  I  love 

278 


— that  I  have  loved  for  a  long  time — some  one 
— some  one  whom  you  know,  but — but  he 
does  not  love  me." 

The  confession  was  too  much  for  her.  She 
sank  down  from  the  stone  to  the  ground  sob 
bing. 

He  went  quickly  over  to  her  and  gently 
lifted  her  back  again,  drawing  her  tenderly 
toward  him,  and  stroking  her  hair. 

"  It  seems  incomprehensible  to  me,"  he  said, 
"  that  there  could  be  a  man  living  who,  know 
ing,  you,  did  not  love  you." 

His  words  were  so  full  of  genuine  wonder 
that  she  was  forced  to  smile  in  spite  of  her 
tears. 

"  It  is  not  strange,"  she  said.  "  Of  course 
there  are  many,  many  such  men.  And  he  is 
such  a  wonderful  man — a  genius — he  spends 
all  of  his  time  in  studying  and  reading  and 
writing — and  besides  he  cares — " 

She  stopped  suddenly,  her  thoughts  too  bit 
ter  for  utterance. 


279 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  I  can't  possibly  think  who  it  is,"  said 
Philip.  "  Would  you  tell  me,  or  would  you 
rather  not?" 

"  It  is  Eric,"  she  whispered. 

"  By  Jove,  I  should  never  have  thought  of 
him.  Why,  I  could  have  sworn  he  adores  you. 
He  certainly  showed  it  all  last  winter " 

"  It  was  nothing,"  interrupted  Sylvia  almost 
sternly,  "  we  were  merely  friends,  ordinarily 
good  friends.  I  had  absolutely  no  right  to 
care  for  him — it  was  wrong  in  me." 

"Dear  little  girl,"  said  Philip,  "how  hard 
it  is,  that  of  all  the  men  who  adore  you,  you 
should  care  for  the  only  one  who  does  not. 
Perhaps  it  is  wrong  in  me  to  ask  you  to  marry 
me,  if  you  think  you  would  be  happier  free? 
He  is  sure  to  come  to  you  sooner  or  later. 
Perhaps  I  ought  to  give  you  up  ?  Oh,  dearest, 
tell  me  what  I  ought  to  do.  I  love  you  so,  I 
want  you  so — yet  it  is  your  happiness  that  I 
want,  not  mine." 

She  looked  up  at  him  kindly. 

280 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  You  need  not  give  me  up,  Philip,  it  would 
do  no  good.  He  would  never  care  for  me — 
do  not  let  us  speak  of  him  again.  I  might 
have  thought  so  once,  but  I  know  better  now, 
he  cares  for  some  one  else  who  does  not  love 
him.  Help  me  to  forget  him,  God  will  help  me 
too,  for  I  have  asked  Him  in  my  prayers.  Let 
me  feel  that  I  may  make  you  happy,  and  per 
haps  in  that  way  I  shall  find  peace.  And  now 
see,  Philip,"  she  continued,  rising,  "  the  rain 
has  stopped  and  the  sun  is  shining  again,  we 
can  go  back  now." 


281 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


WHEN  they  reached  the  villa  they  sat  on  the 
verandah  watching  the  sun  set.  The  world 
seemed  very  still,  and  a  quiet  had  fallen  on 
them  both.  Philip  went  over  to  the  steps  and 
stood  looking  out  across  the  garden.  He  was 
greatly  troubled;  though  unutterably  happy  at 
having  Sylvia,  he  feared  he  ought  not  to 
let  her  make  this  sacrifice  for  him.  He 
knew  it  was  a  sacrifice.  What  if  Eric  should 
come  back,  and  should  love  her  when  it 
was  too  late?  Sylvia  sat  very  still,  her 
breath  was  coming  quickly  and  her  eyes 
were  very  wide  open — she  was  afraid — a 
sudden  terrible  fear  had  come  over  her. 
She  had  given  her  promise  to  Philip,  she 
had  decided  that  it  was  best  to  marry  him — 
but  she  was  conscious  of  a  tremendous  desire 
to  beg  him  to  release  her.  If  she  already 
longed  so  for  her  freedom,  what  would  she 

282 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

feel  to-morrow  and  the  next  day  and  the  next  ? 
She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  in  an 
agony  of  dread  and  doubt  for  the  future.  But 
all  at  once  she  arose  and  gave  herself  a  little 
shake;  she  would  be  strong,  she  would  not  let 
this  fear  undermine  her  determination — she 
would  keep  her  promise  to  Philip.  But  her 
strength  might  not  last  long,  her  resolve  might 
weaken,  she  dared  not  trust  herself  long.  She 
went  quickly  over  to  Philip. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you,  Philip,"  she  said,  "  if 
you  will  marry  me  now — at  once  ?  I  am  afraid 
— oh,  forgive  me  for  saying  it — but  you  under 
stand  and  will  help  me  ?  When  I  am  your  wife, 
we  can — we  can  forget  it  all — but  I  need  you 
to  help  me.  I  am  afraid  to  be  left  alone  by 
myself.  Are  you  willing  to  do  this — to  marry 
me  at  once?  " 

A  great  joy  came  over  Philip — she  had  de 
cided  the  question  for  him — he  need  no  longer 
be  troubled  about  what  he  ought  to  do.  Once 
his  wife,  he  felt  he  could  teach  her  to  forget. 

283 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 


"  Dearest !  "  he  cried,  "  I  long  to  marry  you 
just  as  soon  as  you  will  let  me — this  very 
moment,  if  we  could." 

A  little  smile  crept  about  her  mouth,  his  im 
petuosity  could  but  please  her. 

"  To-morrow  is  the  nearest,  Philip,  we  must 
have  a  little  time  to  prepare.  I  must  tell  auntie, 
though  I  am  sure  that  she  will  be  willing.  Let 
us  make  it  to-morrow,  and  until  then,  until  we 
are  married  and  go  away,  let  us  keep  it  a  secret. 
Let  us  be  married  in  that  pretty  chapel  at  the 
edge  of  our  woods.  You  have  the  priest  there 
at  twelve  and  I  will  ask  aunt  Lucia  to  come  and 
we  will  meet  you  there.  Do  you  like  the 
plan?" 

"  I  adore  it !  "  said  Philip,  rapturously. 

Philip  stayed  for  a  cup  of  tea,  and  afterwards 
they  of  course  told  the  Baroness,  who,  though 
very  much  surprised,  willingly  gave  her  con 
sent.  She  had  always  liked  Philip,  and  of  late, 
in  her  anxiety  over  Sylvia's  altered  looks  and 
bearing,  she  had  wondered  if  she  might  not  be 

284 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

in  love,  and  now  it  was  a  great  relief  to  her  to 
find  that  she  was. 

"  But  why  this  haste  ? "  she  protested. 
"  Why  not  have  a  large  wedding  fitting  your 
station  ?  " 

"  Oh,  please,  no !  "  said  Sylvia.  "  I  have 
always  had  a  horror  of  those  great  functions. 
I  would  much  prefer  the  simplest  kind  of  a 
wedding,  and  both  Philip  and  I  see  no  reason 
to  wait,  we  have  set  our  hearts  on  being 
married  to-morrow." 

The  little  chapel  in  the  woods  was  a  quaint, 
picturesque,  deserted  spot.  It  had  not  been  in 
use  for  several  years,  so  scarcely  any  one  ever 
came  near  it. 

The  next  noon  when  Sylvia  and  her  aunt 
reached  the  place — they  had  walked,  as  they 
did  not  want  even  a  coachman  to  know  their 
destination — they  found  Philip  and  the  priest 
already  there.  The  noonday  sun  beat  down 
warmly,  but  inside  the  little  chapel  it  was 
cool  and  shady. 

285 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

The  ceremony  took  but  a  very  few  moments, 
When  it  was  over,  they  all  went  back  to  the 
house.  The  priest  had  gone  and  returned  to  his 
own  house  having  promised  to  keep  the  mar 
riage  a  secret  until  he  should  hear  of  their  de 
parture. 

That  same  noon  Edith  had  been  sitting  in 
one  of  the  cool  salons  of  the  hotel  reading, 
when  Dick's  card  was  brought  to  her.  He  had 
come  to  ask  her  to  go  for  a  drive. 

"  It  is  rather  early,"  he  said,  "  but  I  wanted 
you  to  drive  to  Mentone  and  lunch.  I  met 
Eric  on  my  way " 

Edith  gave  her  a  start,  but  Dick  did  not 
notice  it. 

"  He  has  just  returned  from  Egypt,  and  I 
told  him  to  get  Sylvia  and  come  with  us.  He 
went  over  for  her,  but  found  she  had  just  gone 
out." 

Edith  was  very  pale.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  life  she  was  terrified.  Eric  had  returned, 
when  she  supposed  he  was  safely  installed  in 

286 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

^~~~^~ 
Egypt  for  at  least  a  year  or  so!     What  if  he 

discovered  her  monstrous  'lie?  What  if  he 
loved  Sylvia,  told  her  so,  and  found  it  all  out  ? 
...  Of  course  he  loved  Sylvia,  and  of  course 
he  would  find  it  out!  Fate  was  once  more 
against  her!  She  shuddered. 

She  knew  that  if  Eric's  anger  was  once 
aroused — as  she  was  sure  it  would  be  when  he 
should  discover  her  lie — and  she  dreaded  the 
consequences !  Dick  was  looking  at  her  now 
and  noticed  her  deathly  whiteness. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  said,  anxiously. 
"  You  look  ill." 

"  I  have  a  terrible  headache,"  she  said.  "  I 
could  not  sleep  last  night  at  all.  I  thought  I 
was  better,  but  it  seems  to  be  getting  worse 
again.  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  fear  that  I 
cannot  go  with  you." 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Dick.  "  I  am  very 
sorry."  He  rose  to  go.  "  May  I  come  to 
morrow  to  see  how  you  are?  I  trust  you  will 
soon  be  well  again." 

287 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said. 

As  soon  as  he  'had  gone,  she  went  quickly 
out  and  jumped  into  a  coupe  and  told  the 
coachman  to  take  her  to  the  Countess'  villa. 
She  had  taken  a  sudden  resolve.  She  would  see 
Sylvia  herself  first — before  Eric  should  have 
time  to  discover  her  falseness.  She  reached 
there  just  after  they  had  returned  from  the 
chapel. 

"  I  know  it  is  a  strange  hour  for  a  call — just 
before  luncheon — but  I  have  something  I  want 
to  tell  you — at  once,"  said  Edith.  She  was 
alone  with  Sylvia  in  her  room,  as  Sylvia  had 
been  there  and  had  asked  Edith  to  come 
up. 

"  I  have  a  confession  to  make,"  went  on 
Edith.  Whenever  Edith  had  anything  to  say, 
whether  pleasant  or  disagreeable,  she  never 
hesitated  about  saying  it,  and  now,  though 
never  in  her  life  had  she  made  such  a  confes 
sion,  she  did  not  hesitate.  One  of  Edith's 
redeeming  features  was  her  courage. 

288 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  I  lied  to  you  the  other  day — most  hor 
ribly." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Sylvia. 

"  It  was  about  Eric  Fielding.  It  is  all  over 
now,  he  has  come  back.  Richard  Ames  saw 
him  this  morning,  and  so  my  plan  is  knocked 
out.  I  shall  leave  here  immediately  and  never 
again  try  to  meddle  with  his  affairs.  I  loved 
him — Heaven  alone  knows  how  desperately — 
that  is  why  I  could  not  let  him  alone.  If  I 
could  not  hurt  him,  I  wanted  to  hurt  you,  for 
I  discovered  that  you  loved  him,  I  saw  you 
kiss  his  picture,  and  I  was  horribly  jealous,  and 
I  lied  to  you.  He  never  loved  me.  He  never 
cared  for  me  in  the  very  least.  We  were  once 
engaged,  it  is  true,  but  he  did  it  to  please  me — 
I — I  can  say  no  more — I  have  confessed  all.  I 
know  it  is  not  enough  punishment  for  the  lie 
I  told — but  it  is  something — more  than  you 
can  imagine." 

She  had  been  standing,  Sylvia  had  also,  and 
now  Edith  turned  toward  the  door.  "  I  will 


289 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

say  good-bye,  for  I  hope  you  will  never  see 
me  again — and  Eric — I  trust  he  need  never  see 
me  again.  How  you  both  must  despise  me! 
Do  not  come  down  with  me,  I  cannot  wait." 
She  went  out  so  quickly  and  down  the  stairs 
to  her  coupe  that  Sylvia  could  not  have  escorted 
her  if  she  had  tried.  But  she  was  too  aston 
ished  to  move.  She  stood  leaning  against 
the  foot  of  the  bed.  Then  she  knelt  down  by 
the  side  of  it  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
"  He  does  not  love  her  then !  "  she  cried. 
"  Oh,  thank  Heaven,  thank  Heaven  for  that !  " 
But  the  thought  of  Philip  and  the  events  of  the 
morning  came  to  her,  and  she  arose  wearily. 
Her  despair  was  too  deep  for  tears.  After 
what  had  happened  the  knowledge  that  he  did 
not  love  Edith  was  almost  harder  to  bear  than 
it  had  been  before,  for  if  it  were  not  for  the 
fact  of  her  being  Philip's  wife,  a  little  hope 
that  Eric  loved  her  might  have  crept  into  her 
heart.  But  there  was  no  room  now — it  was 
too  late! 


290 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

Edith  had  hastily  shut  the  door  after  her,  as 
she  had  left  and  presently  Sylvia  heard  some 
one  rap. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Sylvia,  drawing  herself  up 
and  trying  to  look  calm.  Her  maid  Jeannette 
entered. 

"  This  just  came  for  you,  Mademoiselle/' 
she  said. 

The  maid  handed  Sylvia  a  box,  courtesied 
and  left  the  room. 

Sylvia  opened  it  and  found  a  great  bunch 
of  violets  with  Eric's  card  in  it,  on  the  back  of 
which  was  written, 

"  I  was  so  sorry  not  to  find  you  in  this 
morning.  May  I  come  again  to-night?  " 

Sylvia  uttered  a  little  moan.  There  was  a 
world  of  misery  and  utter  despair  in  it. 

"Oh,  this  is  more  than  I  can  bear!"  she 
sobbed,  sinking  into  a  chair  and  pressing  the 
flowers  against  her  face. 

"  '  May    I    come    again    to-night  ?     May    I 


291 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

come  again  to-night  ?  '  Hs  asks  me  that — 
he— Eric!" 

All  at  once  she  sprang  up,  at  the  sudden 
thought  which  had  come  to  her,  a  thrill  of  de 
light  ran  through  her  whole  being. 

"  Yes,  he  shall  come  to-night — and  I  will  be 
at  home!  I  have  never  refused  him  anything 
in  all  my  life,  and  I  will  not  refuse  him  this — 
his  last  request." 

She  ran  quickly  downstairs  to  find  Philip. 
He  was  seated  in  the  library  alone.  When  he 
saw  Sylvia  enter,  he  sprang  up  and  went 
eagerly  over  to  her.  He  wanted  to  take  her  in 
his  arms,  but  he  did  not  dare — he  merely  took 
her  hand  and  kissed  it  again  and  again. 

"My  darling  little  wife!"  he  whispered, 
adoringly. 

Sylvia  checked  herself,  she  had  just  been 
about  to  ask  him  something,  but  she  thought 
she  would  wait  a  few  moments. 

They  sat  down  and  P-hilip  talked  to  her,  he 
was  like  a  school-boy,  so  radiantly  happy.  But 


292 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

finally  Sylvia  felt  she  must  ask  him  the  ques 
tion  which  filled  her  heart. 

"  Philip,  I  want  to  know  if  you  will  grant 
me  a  request.  I  feel  very  guilty  to  ask  it — I 
have  no  right,  I  ought  not  to — but,  oh,  I  want 
to !  I  thought  of  it,  and  I  was  tempted  to  ask 
it — but  it  was  only  an  impulse  of  mine — you 
need  not  grant  it  if  you  do  not  want  to." 

"  My  dearest,"  he  said,  "  it  is  granted  before 
you  ask  it.  Anything  you  want  you  shall  have, 
if  I  can  give  it  to  you." 

"  Thank  you,  Philip,  this  is  your  permission 
I  want." 

"  Then  you  have  my  permission  for  any 
thing.  Though  I  am  your  husband,  I  am 
neither  your  lord  nor  your  master,  you  need 
never  feel  that  you  must  ask  me  for  permis 
sion." 

"  You  are  so  good,  Philip.  You  won't 
think  this  very  strange  ?  You  won't  blame  me 
for  thinking  of  wanting  to  do  it?  You  will 
understand  and  will  not  feel  hurt  ?  " 


293 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

"  I  will  understand,  sweetheart,  and  will  not 
feel  hurt.  How  could  I  ?  Am  I  not  the  most 
blessed  man  in  the  whole  world?  " 

"  I  want  to  know  if  you  would  mind  if  you 
do  not  take  me  away  until  to-morrow  ?  If  you 
will  leave  me  here  just  this  one  more  evening? 
It  is  because  Eric  is  back  and  wants  to  see  me 
— this  evening.  He  got  back  this  morning  and 
wrote  me  a  note  asking  me  if  he  could — and  the 
thought  came  to  me  that  perhaps  you  might 
not  mind  if  I  stayed  to  see  him  once  more." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Philip.  "  Surely  you 
may  stay.  I  want  you  to  do  everything  that 
will  give  you  pleasure.  You  can  stay  longer 
if  you  want  to,  and  keep  our  marriage  a  secret 
as  long  as  it  may  please  you.  You  know,  dear 
est,  that  I  want  you  as  soon  as  I  can  have  you, 
but  not  until  you  are  ready  to  come." 

"  Philip,  you  are  so  kind  and  good  to  me !  " 
said  Sylvia,  looking  at  him  gratefully.  "  You 
are  so  generous  and  true  and  noble.  And  I 
will  go  with  you  to-morrow.  Come  for  me 


294 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

early  in  the  morning  and  we  will  go.  I  will 
say  good-bye  to  Eric  to-night.  You  do  not 
blame  me,  do  you,  Philip  ?  " 

"  You    know  I  do    not,"  he  answered,  "  I 
quite  understand." 


295 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


PHILIP  remained  with  her  during  the  after 
noon,  but  left  her  about  five  o'clock,  saying  he 
would  come  the  next  morning. 

Sylvia  went  up  to  her  room  to  dress.  She 
looked  at  each  one  of  her  gowns,,  wondering 
which  one  she  would  put  on.  She  had  a  great 
many  of  them  and  they  were  all  lovely,  and 
she  finally  chose  a  white  lace  one;  she  always 
preferred  to  wear  white.  This  one  was  made 
in  a  very  simple  style,  yet  of  the  richest  and 
most  exquisite  lace.  It  was  low-necked,  with 
elbow  sleeves,  and  was  very  long.  It  suited 
Sylvia's  beauty  to  perfection. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  a  little  too  elaborate  for  such 
a  simple  visit,"  she  said  to  herself,  apologetic 
ally,  "but  I  like  it  the  best  and  I  must  wear 

it — for  this  is  his  last "  she  leaned  against 

a  chair  for  a  moment,  for  she  felt  faint  and 
dizzy,  but  she  quickly  went  on  with  her  dress- 

296 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

ing.  She  pinned  some  of  his  violets  in  her  hair 
and  the  rest  at  her  waist. 

When  finally  eight  o'clock  came  and  Eric's 
card  was  brought  up  to  her,  she  went  down  to 
the  drawing-room  at  once.  Eric  had  heard 
her  footfall  on  the  stair,  and  stood  at  the  foot 
waiting  for  her.  She  gave  him  her  hand, 
smiling.  She  told  him  how  glad  she  was  that 
he  had  returned.  He  thanked  her,  and  then 
stood  looking  at  her  silently  a  moment.  She 
had  never  before  seen  his  eyes  seem  so  dark, 
but  she  thought  it  must  be  because  the  room 
was  so  dimly  lighted,  there  was  only  one  lamp 
burning. 

"  It  is  such  a  beautiful  night,  shall  we  go 
out  into  the  garden?  "  she  said. 

They  went  out  and  wandered  down  a  path 
edged  with  tall  rosebushes.  Coming  to  a  little 
bench,  they  sat  there,  both  silent. 

A  nightingale  was  singing  near  by,  but  how 
joyous  its  song  seemed  now!  Sylvia  was  en 
joying  to  the  utmost  this  one  little  short  hour; 

297 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

she  felt  that  she  must — for  it  would  so  soon  be 
gone. 

"  It  is  just  this  evening,"  she  was  saying 
to  herself.  "  Just  this  one  little  evening." 

Eric  interrupted  her  thoughts  by  speaking. 
He  had  leaned  far  back  so  that  he  could  see 
her  face. 

"  In  Egypt,"  he  said,  "  as  you  know,  there 
is  a  great  desert — miles  and  miles  of  loneli 
ness  and  desolation — that  is  the  place  I  have 
been  in  for  the  last  few  months — I  could  see 
nothing  but  that  vast  stretch  of  misery.  I  was 
lost  there — and  so  I  came  back — to  you.  Three 
years  ago  there  was  a  man  who  went  out  to 
California.  He  had  supposed  it  was  on  busi 
ness,  but  he  knew  afterwards  that  it  was  Fate 
who  drew  him  there.  When  he  reached  there, 
he  met  a  girl  and  the  first  hour  that  he  saw  her 
he  knew  that  he  loved  her  wholly  and  entirely. 
She  played  to  him  on  the  violin  one  night,  the 
first  thing  she  played  was  Werner's  Farewell, 
and  as  he  listened  to  it,  he  felt  that  the  message 

298 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

of  the  song  was  for  him  a  prediction  of  his  own 
destiny,  for  he  was  to  love  her  and  never  be 
able  to  tell  her — he  was  engaged  to  be  married. 
But  finally  he  was  freed  from  his  engagement 
and  he  returned,  but  to  find  that  she  was  dead. 
He  had  given  her  his  whole  heart,  though 
she  knew  it  not,  though  she  did  not  care  for 
him  in  the  least,  nor  had  she  given  him  one 
thought.  He  had  nothing  left  but  to  wait  till 
he  could  join  her  after  death,  and  in  the  mean 
time  he  wanted  to  do  something  for  her  sake. 
So  he  wrote  a  book — several  books — and  tried 
to  make  himself  a  little  better  than  the  average 
man,  he  wanted  to  be  as  nearly  worthy  of  lov 
ing  her  as  he  could.  But  at  last,  in  three  years, 
he  met  another  girl — she  was  nearly  a  woman 
and  she  had  all  the  beauty  and  exquisite  graces 
of  his  lost  love,  only  ten-fold  more.  He  loved 
her  as  even  he  had  never  dreamed  of  loving  the 
other.  But  he  felt  that  he  could  not  tell  her  so 
because  he  had  believed  it  impossible  that  he 
could  love  two  women.  His  only  excuse  was 


299 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

that  they  were  so  exactly  alike.  The  first  time 
he  had  seen  her  he  believed  she  was  the  same — 
until  he  found  it  was  impossible.  So  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  away  and  conquer  that  love. 
He  fought  long  and  earnestly,  but  it  was  use 
less.  Countess,  that  woman  is  yourself — and  I 
am  that  man.  I  love  you  with  my  whole  heart 
and  strength  and  being !  " 

Sylvia  arose  and  stood  looking  at  him. 
Eric  arose  also  looking  at  her,  his  soul  in  his 
eyes.  Sylvia  was  spell-bound.  Joy,  sorrow, 
and  terror  were  written  in  her  face — though  he 
could  not  read  their  meaning. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  what  is 
it?  I  cannot  endure  this  suspense  any  longer. 
Do  you  love  me — can  you  love  me  ?  " 

At  last  she  spoke. 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  before.  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me  before  ?  " 

"  Because,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  fighting 
against  my  love.  I  have  always  believed  a  man 
could  not  love  twice  as  I  have  loved  you.  But 

300 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

Heaven  forgive  me  for  my  disloyalty  to  her.  I 
love  you  so  that  even  she  is  forgotten.  I  could 
stand  it  no  longer  before  telling  you.  And  I 
believe  Heaven  must  have  forgiven  me  now, 
for  I  have  suffered  so." 

She  was  breathing  hard. — "  Come,"  she 
whispered.  She  turned  and  hurried  toward  the 
house.  He  followed  her  in  silent  obedience. 
She  led  him  to  the  picture  gallery,  at  the  door 
she  paused. 

"  Wait  here  just  a  moment,"  she  said,  step 
ping  by  him  into  the  darkened  room.  She 
went  over  to  where  two  tall  candlesticks  stood, 
and  lighting  the  candles  in  them,  she  returned. 
She  led  Eric  over  to  a  chair  opposite  to  the 
window  with  the  steps,  turning  the  chair  so 
that  the  back  was  towards  the  room. 

"  Sit  here,  she  said.  "  And  do  not  stir  nor 
speak  nor  move." 

He  obeyed  her  again  in  mute  astonishment. 

She  went  over  to  the  window  and  threw 
open  the  casement.  Taking  her  violin,  she 

301 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

stood  on  the  top  step  and  began  to  play.  It 
was  Werner's  Farewell.  The  clear,  rich  notes 
drifted  over  to  him  on  the  warm  fragrant  air 
as  they  had  done  that  night  so  long  ago. 

Eric  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Barbara !  "  he  cried.  "  You  are  Barbara, 
you  must  be — no  one  else  could  play  like 
that!" 

He  sprang  across  the  room.  She  had  ceased 
playing  and  stood  there  triumphant,  a  glorious 
light  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  Barbara,"  she  said. 

He  was  up  the  steps  and  had  her  in  his 
arms.  She  gave  a  dear  little,  low,  sweet  laugh 
—her  spirit  seemed  lifted  above  all  earthly 
happiness  to  a  radiance  found  only  in  Heaven. 
Life  to  her  was  entirely  this  one  moment. 

"  Do  you  love  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  "  I  love  you  as  you 
love  me, — and  I  am  both  Barbara  and  Sylvia. 
Now  you  see  you  are  forgiven  for  loving  two 
of  us — for  we  are  one  and  the  same." 


302 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

"  It  is  marvellous !  "  he  said.  "  But  how 
could  I  have  been  so  blind?  I  might  have 
known  that  Heaven  could  not  have  made  two 
such  beings.  And  yet — I  do  not  understand — 
I  have  believed  Barbara  dead.  She  was  in 
America  .  .  .  you  are  here.  .  .  ' 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Sylvia.  "  But  I  was  in 
America  and  I  had  taken  my  mother's  name  for 
the  time  being.  My  uncle  had  an  accident 
which  affected  his  brain  and  he  believed  me 
dead  and  must  have  told  you  so — when  in 
reality  I  was  here." 

Eric  pressed  her  closer  to  him. 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  com 
prehend  it,  but  nothing  matters  now  that  I 
have  you !  So  I  have  loved  you,  and  you  only 
all  these  years !  Ah,  God  is  good  to  me.  Tell 
me  again,"  he  said. 

"  I  love  you,  and  have  loved  you  always," 
whispered  Sylvia. 

"  Then  you  are  my  own,"  he  said.  "  God 
has  given  you  to  me.  I  believe  that  I  have 

303 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

loved  you  through  countless  ages  and  I  know 
I  shall  throughout  eternity  to  come." 

Suddenly  a  tumult  of  thoughts — terrible, 
stern  and  real — came  to  Sylvia's  remembrance. 
And,  as  h'er  whole  life  and  joy  had  been 
thrown  into  this  one  supreme  moment  of  time 
— when  it  had  passed — when  the  next  moment 
had  succeeded  it — a  cold  shudder  passed 
through  her  frame.  She  had  lived  .  .  .  and 
now  she  must  pay  for  it.  For  nothing  in  life 
is  without  its  price. 

"  Listen,"  she  said,  "  I  love  you — Heaven 
knows  how  I  love  you — and  God  help  me,  for 

I  shall  love  you  forever — but — but — wait " 

She  hesitated,  sobs  choked  her  voice.  "  Oh, 
Eric,  how  can  I  tell  you  ?  It  breaks  my  heart/' 

"What  is  it?"  he  whispered.  "Do  not 
tremble  so,  darling,  nothing  can  come  to  you 
now  to  sadden  you — now  that  you  love  me  and 
I  have  the  right  to  protect  you." 

"  But  that  is  it — ah,  you  do  not  understand. 
I  must  tell  you,  I  cannot  wait  another  moment 


304 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

— but  it  tortures  me  so !  I  do  not — I  cannot — 
I  never  could  love  Philip — but — but  we  are 
married !  " 

"  Married  ?  "  cried  Eric.  "  Impossible,  you 
must  be  dreaming." 

He  put  his  hand  up  to  his  head  and  pushed 
the  hair  back  from  his  forehead.  Sylvia  laid 
hers  too  against  his  forehead. 

"  No,  dear,  alas,  I  am  not  dreaming.  See, 
take  my  hand."  The  anguish  in  his  eyes  terri 
fied  her.  "  We  are  real — we  are  here  together 
— it  is  not  a  dream — and  I  love  you — you  must 
remember  this  ever — for  it  will  always  be  the 
same,  even  though  we  can  never  speak  of  it 
again.  And  you  must  leave  me  now,  I  am  his 
wife  and  I  have  promised  to  go  with  him  to 
morrow,  we  were  married  this  morning." 

"This  morning?"  said  Eric.  "My  God, 
if  I  had  but  known !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Sylvia,  "  if  you  had  only  known, 
but  now — it  is  too  late." 


305 


SYLVIA :   The  STORY  of 

"  But  if  you  loved  me,  why  did  you  marry 
Philip?"  he  asked. 

"  Because,  you  see,  I  did  not  believe  you 
loved  me.  I  thought  that  I  could  make  Philip 
happy  by  being  his  wife,  even  if  I  did  not  love 
him.  I  told  him  quite  frankly  that  I  loved 
you.  Philip  has  been  so  good,  and  seemed  to 
want  me  so,  I  thought  it  was  the  best  thing  I 
could  do  with  my  life — and  I  married  him 
quickly  so  that  I  should  not  change  my  mind 
and  break  my  promise.  But,  oh,  if  I  had  only 
known — if  I  had  only  waited  just  one  day 
more " 

She  ceased  speaking.  Eric  had  stood  mo 
tionless  listening  to  her.  A  great  exhaustion 
suddenly  overpowered  him  and  he  sank  down, 
and  buried  his  head  in  his  hands. 

Sylvia  knelt  beside  him. 

"  Dearest,"  she  whispered,  tenderly  stroking 
his  hair.  "  Dearest,"  she  repeated  over  and 
over  again.  His  misery  rent  her  heart.  She 
forgot  her  own  anguish  in  seeing  his  'suffering. 

306 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

After  a  few  moments  she  arose,  and  said,  "  Let 
us  be  brave  and  accept  our  fate.  It  is  too  late 
now  to  alter  anything.  I  must  go  with  Philip 
to-morrow,  and  if  we  ever  meet  again,  even 
though  we  cannot  speak  of  it,  we  shall  know — 
that  will  be  our  comfort — we  shall  always 
know — nothing  can  take  that  from  us.  My 
heart  belongs  to  you,  even  if  I  cannot — keep 
it,  dear." 

He  arose  slowly,  and  looked  at  her  again, 
an  unutterable  sadness  in  his  eyes.  He  took 
her  hand  gently  and  kissed  it. 

"  I  will,"  he  said,  'solemnly.  "  Heaven  bless 
you  for  giving  it  to  me.  And  Heaven  guard 
you.  I  will  go,"  he  continued,  "  but  remember, 
sweetheart,  that  I  am  yours  wholly,  truly  and 
entirely,  in  this  world,  in  the  next,  and  for 
ever." 

He  pressed  her  hand  again  to  his  lips. 

"  Yes,  I  will  remember,"  she  said.  She  went 
close  to  him. 

"  Kiss  me  good-bye,"  she  whispered.     "  It 

307 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

cannot  be  wrong,  for  it  is  all  that  we  have 
granted  us.  And  then  leave  me." 

He  kissed  her,  slowly  and  solemnly,  and  then 
turned,  leaving  her  standing  there  in  the  dimly- 
lighted  room. 

When  he  reached  the  garden,  he  found  that 
the  heavens  had  clouded  over,  the  moon  and 
stars  had  disappeared,  there  was  lightning  and 
thunder  in  the  distance,  and  heavy  drops  of 
rain  were  beginning  to  fall.  As  he  passed  along 
under  the  room  where  he  had  been  with  her, 
he  looked  up  at  the  window,  but  all  was  dark 
ness,  so  he  passed  out  to  the  open  lawn, 
through  the  gateway  and  on  towards  home. 
The  wind  which  came  in  through  the  open 
window  behind  Sylvia  suddenly  put  out  the 
flickering  flames  of  the  candles,  and  left  the 
room  in  darkness.  But  this  was  unheeded,  for 
she  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  and  lay  there  with 
her  eyes  closed.  The  storm  drew  nearer  and 
nearer,  the  rain  was  coming  down  in  torrents 
now,  the  flashes  of  the  lightning  were  brilliant 

308 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

and  the  continuous  rolling  of  the  thunder  was 
almost  appalling.  Sylvia  opened  her  eyes — 
the  rain  was  coming  in  upon  her  as  she  lay 
there.  She  arose  to  her  feet,  stepping  to  the 
window  a  moment  to  look  out  on  the  storm. 
Storms  were  so  rare  in  the  countries  in  which 
her  life  had  been  spent  that  they  never  had  lost 
the  power  to  awe  her,  and  it  seemed  particu 
larly  fitting  to  her  that  one  should  come  now  at 
this  supreme  crisis  of  her  life.  But  it  almost 
seemed  too  terrible  to  watch  longer.  She 
hastily  closed  the  shutters,  and  groping  her 
way  to  the  door,  she  hurried  to  her  own  room. 


309 


CHAPTER  XXX 


PHILIP  had  sat  that  whole  evening  at  his 
window.  It  looked  out  across  the  broad  avenue 
to  the  sea  beyond.  He  had  idly  watched  the 
stars  and  the  moon,  the  light  playing  on  the 
water  below,  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  and  the 
swaying  of  the  flowers  in  the  gentle  evening 
breeze,  and  the  people  passing  to  and  fro. 

His  thoughts  had  been  most  happy,  for  his 
heart  was  filled  with  Sylvia's  dear  image;  he 
was  trying  to  realise  the  blessed  truth  that  she 
was  his.  To-morrow  he  would  take  her  with 
him  into  a  wonderful  land  where  they  would 
live  all  their  lives  together.  Though  she  was 
spending  the  evening  with  some  one  else,  even 
the  man  she  loved,  it  did  not  occur  to  Philip 
to  feel  any  jealousy,  his  joy  was  so  great  in 
thinking  of  the  morrow. 

As  he  watched  the  night  outside,  he  saw  the 
change  come  over  the  heavens.  The  storm 
fascinated  him,  and  he  felt  a  delight  in  its 

310 


An  AMERICAN  COUNTESS 

power,  in  listening  to  the  thunder  and  watch 
ing  the  flashes  of  light.  He  let  the  rain  beat 
against  his  face,  it  felt  refreshing  and  cool,  so 
warm  was  his  blood  for  the  gladness  in  his 
soul  that  the  cold  drops  were  grateful  to  him. 

Never  in  his  life  had  he  felt  such  a  deep, 
pure  joy,  and  content.  He  had  waited  and 
longed  for  years  for  that  which  had  finally  been 
given  him.  He  suddenly  had  a  great  desire  to 
go  out  into  the  storm,  the  room  seemed  too 
small  to  hold  his  joy.  He  left  the  hotel  and 
wandered  towards  Sylvia's  villa.  Instinctively 
he  longed  to  be  as  near  her  as  possible,  to  look 
at  the  house  which  held  her,  to  watch  it  all 
through  the  night,  until  morning  should  come 
when  he  could  go  to  her.  He  drew  near  and 
looked  up  at  the  stone  facade.  "  Somewhere 
behind  that  wall  is  my  sweetheart — my  wife. 
I  wonder  in  which  room,"  he  whispered. 

His  eyes  wandered  along  the  row  of  dark 
windows.  While  he  gazed,  as  if  in  answer  to 
his  longing,  he  saw  by  a  sudden,  unusually 


SYLVIA  :   The  STORY  of 

vivid  flash  of  lightning,  the  face  of  his  love 
appear  for  a  second  at  one  of  the  windows 
above.  But,  as  it  must  happen  in  this  world, 
the  answer  to  our  prayers  comes  in  a  way,  and 
at  a  cost  we  little  dream  of,  and  the  kindly 
stroke  which  had  served  as  a  beacon  to  guide 
his  eyes  to  the  face  dearest  to  his  heart,  was 
followed  by  another  that  served  also  to  close 
his  eyes  forevermore  on  all  other  visions. 
Like  a  kindly  hand  which  held  a  torch,  it 
touched  him  gently  on  the  shoulder,  as  if  to 
awaken  him  from  a  dream.  He  sank  slowly 
to  the  ground.  On  his  face  the  smile  of  infinite 
content,  as  if  the  happiness  of  his  thoughts  had 
been  so  great  that  even  death  itself  had  no 
power  to  mar  their  sweetness.  Then  there  was 
a  great  and  solemn  hush — a  darkness — and 
nothing  but  the  steady  downpour  of  the  rain. 

THE  END. 


312 


A   Romance    of  the   Iowa   Wheat   Fields. 

THE  ROAD  TO  RIDGEBY'S. 

BY  FRANK  BURLINGAME  HARRIS. 
I2mo,  cloth,  decorative.  $1.50 

A  simple  but  powerful  story  of  farm  life  in  the  great  West,  which 
cannot  fail  to  make  a  lasting  impression  on  every  reader.  In  this 
book  Mr.  Harris  has  done  for  the  wheat  fields  what  Mr.  West- 
cott  has  done  for  rural  New  York  and  Mr.  Bacheller  for  the 
North  country.  It  is  in  no  way  imitative  of  David  Harum  or 
Eben  Holden;  and,  unlike  each  of  these  books,  it  is  not  in  the  por 
trayal  of  a  single  quaint  character  that  its  power  consists.  Mr. 
Harris  has  taken  for  his  story  a  typical'Iowa  farmer's  family  and 
their  neighbours;  and,  although  every  one  of  the  characters  is  real 
istically  portrayed,  the  sense  of  proportion  is  never  lost  sight  of, 
and  the  result  is  a  picture  of  real  life,  artistic  in  the  highest  sense, 
as  being  true  to  nature.  It  is  a  wholesome  story,  full  of  the  real 
heroism  of  homely  life,  a  book  to  make  the  reader  better  by 
strengthening  his  belief  in  the  truth  of  self-sacrifice  and  the  sur 
vival  of  sturdy  American  character. 

"One  has  but  to  read  the  book  to  realize  what  a  loss  was  sustained  in  his 
death.  The  morbidness  of  approaching  death  has  not  entered  into  the  story 
in  any  way.  It  is  strong,  healthy,  normal.  It  appeals  to  the  best  emotions 
in  its  kindly  human  interest,  and  mingles  genial  homely  humor  with  its 
pathos." — St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat. 

"  Contrasting  it  with  the  work  of  the  others  who  have  wrought  in  the  Iowa 
vineyard,  one  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  The  I  toad  to  Ridgeby'*  lies 
nearest  the  truth  and  is,  consequently,  the  best  art.  I  do  not  laud  The 
Road  to  Ridgeby  s  above  Main  Travelled  Road»  simply  because  it  is  a 
pleasanter  road.  It  is  simply  and  unmistakably  the  truer,  the  more  natural, 
the  nearer  to  the  real  life  of  th«  Iowa  plains.  That  life  has  its  shadows,  but 
it  has  its  lights  also.  Mr.  Harris  gives  us  both." — The  Mirror  (St.  Louis). 

"  Praise  it  certainly  deserves ;  for  it  has  kindly  and  simply  humor,  honest  but 
not  oppressive  realism,  and  a  genuine  faculty  for  character  realization." — 
The  Outlook, 

"His  pictures  of  Western  country  life  and  people  are  wonderfully  real  in 
every  detail."— Minneapolis  Journal. 

"  One  cannot  read  this  book  carefully  without  being  caught  by  its  charm, 
its  earnestness,  and  its  truthfulness,  and  strongly  held  in  its  power.  It  is 
unquestionably  one  of  the  best  novels  of  the  year  and  an  addition  to  American 
literature  that  will  live." — Town  and  Country. 

"  Simple  as  the  tale  is,  an  idyl  of  love,  and  a  story  of  sublime  sacrifice,  it  has 
no  uninteresting  moment.  From  the  time  when  the  new  arrival  comes  to  the 
community,  and  becomes  beloved  by  its  people  by  whipping  the  town  bully 
until  old  Ridgeby' s  struggles  are  ended  and  Sibloy  finds  her  reward,  one 
is  held  as  «hildren  are  when  they  listen  to  some  old  fairy  story." — Chicago 
Journal. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  by  the  publishers  on  receipt  of  price. 

Small,  Maynard  &  Company,  £iEPRLcEEy 


As     Curious    and    as    Novel    as    its    Title. 

ANTING  =  ANTING  STORIES, 

And  Other  Strange  Tales  of  the  Filipinos. 

BY  SARGENT  KAYME. 

With  cover  design  by  WILLIAM  MATHER  CROCKER. 
i2mo,  cloth.  $1.25 

The  sub-title  to  this  volume  gives  a  suggestion  of  the  nature  of 
the  stories  of  which  it  is  composed,  but  no  title  can  give  an  ade 
quate  idea  of  their  wonderful  variety  and  charm.  It  is  hardly 
exaggeration  to  say  that  Mr.  Kayme's  treatment  of  the  life  of 
the  Filipinos  opens  to  our  literature  a  new  field,  almost  as  fresh 
and  as  original  as  did  Mr.  Kipling's  Indian  Stories  when  they 
first  appeared.  Like  Mr.  Kipling,  he  shows  his  perfect  familiarity 
with  the  country  and  people  he  describes ;  and  he  knows  how  to 
tell  a  good  story  straight  away  and  simply  without  any  sacrifice 
of  dramatic  effect  or  power. 

The  curious  title  to  the  volume  furnishes  the  motive  for  some  of 
the  most  striking  of  the  stories.  A  nting-A  nting  is  a  Filipino  word, 
used  to  denote  anything  worn  as  an  amulet,  with  a  supposed  power 
to  protect  the  life  of  the  wearer.  Often  a  thing  of  no  intrinsic  value, 
the  belief  in  its  efficacy  is  yet  so  real  that  its  owner  often  braves 
death  with  a  confidence  so  sublime  as  to  command  admiration,  if 
not  respect. 

•'As  stories  they  aro  excellent  in  themselves,  but  they  are  even  more  valuable 
as  an  exposition  of  the  peculiarities  and  actualities  of  life  among  the  Fili 
pinos."—  Boston  Transcript. 

"The  tales  are  told  with  exceptional  dramatic  power  and  picturesqueness."— 
Buffalo  Express. 

"  Mr.  Kayme  knows  his  Filipino.  He  has  written  well,  and  the  collection  of 
stories  is  of  more  than  ordinary  interest." — Louisville  Courier  Journal. 

"There  are  eleven  stories  in  all,  and  he  who  reads  one  will  want  to  read  all 
the  others.''—  Knoxville  Sentinel. 

"They  are  of  more  importance  to  the  American  reader  than  any  story  of 
Rajput  or  Manchurian,  Japanese  or  Afghan,  or  any  other  race  as  to  which 
he  has  no  responsibility.  It  is  his  business  to  know  the  Filipino,  and  he  is 
fortunate  in  the  form  in  which  the  knowledge  is  presented  to  him." — Boston 
Journal. 

"The  book  is  potent  with  promise  of  the  riches  of  material  lying  loose  within 
the  Philippine  Islands  and  awaiting  the  story-tellers.  The  sketches  in  this 
volume  are  well  handled  and  rich  in  suggestion." — The  Outlook. 

"They  bring  the  people  and  places  before  us  as  no  mere  description  could 
possibly  do."—  Chicago  Daily  A'ews. 

For  sale   by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  by  the  publishers  on  receipt  of  price. 

Small,  Maynard  &  Company, 


A  Great  American   Novel    of    the    Civil   War. 

THE  GRAPES  OF  WRATH. 

A  Tale  of  North  and  South. 

BY  MARY  HARRIOTT  NORRIS, 

Author  of  The  Gray  House  of  the  Quarries,  etc. 

i2mo,  cloth,  decorative,  with  six  full-page  illustrations 

by  H.  T.  CARPENTER.  $1.50 

A  really  great  American  novel  of  the  Civil  War,  which  will  appeal 
with  equal  force  to-day  to  the  Southern  as  well  as  to  the  Northern 
reader.  The  title  is,  of  course,  suggested  by  Mrs.  Howe's  line, — 

"  He  is  trampling  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of  wrath  are  stored." 
The  story  is  developed  from  the  fortunes,  amid  the  vicissitudes  of 
war,  of  an  old  New  Jersey  family,  one  son  of  which  had  settled  in 
Virginia,  becoming  a  general  in  Lee's  army.  There  is  little  fight 
ing  and  no  cheap  heroics  in  the  book,  but  it  gives  a  clearer  picture 
and  a  more  intimate  and  impressive  understanding  of  what  the 
great  struggle  really  meant  to  Unionist  and  to  Confederate  alike 
than  many  a  military  history. 

"The  story  is  an  unusually  powerful  one.  Apart  from  the  broad  opportu 
nities  given  to  interpret  history,  there  is  admirable  development  of  character 
sliowu  throughout  the  book  ;  and  the  romance  element  is  well  handled.  The 
book  is  impressive  and  artistic." — The  Dial. 

"  It  will  take  its  place  forthwith  among  the  best  of  novels  dealing  with  the 
Civil  War.  In  breadth  of  sympathy,  it  may  be  said  to  surpass  them  all."— 
Chicago  Tribune. 

"  A  notably  good  novel  of  the  Civil  War  period,—  in  some  respects  one  of 
the  best.  One  of  the  most  striking  pictures  in  the  book  is  the  description  of 
the  battle  of  the  Wilderness,  and  of  equal  merit  are  the  scenes  in  Richmond 
before  the  surrender,  the  night  of  pillage  by  the  mob,  and  the  gathering  of 
plundering  negroes  in  the  abandoned  mine  in  the  wilderness.  Its  minor 
errors  may  well  be  overlooked  in  the  interest  of  the  book  and  the  sympathy 
and  fairness  with  which  it  is  written."— Louisville  Courier  Journal. 

"  The  story  as  a  whole  is  highly  dramatic  and  well  sustained.  It  is  full  of 
spirit,  life,  and  verisimilitude,  and  the  difference  between  the  point  of  view 
in  small  matters  North  and  South  gives  life  and  piquancy  to  the  whole." — 
The  Outlook.  ^ 

"  A  vital,  interesting,  and  well-written  story.  A  book  well  worth  reading."— 
Chicago  News. 

"  The  war  scenes  are  well  handled.  Miss  Norris  sees  whole  battlefields  with 
excellent  fulness  of  imaginative  power." — St.  Paul  Despatch. 

"A  novel  to  which  high  praise  must  be  accorded.  In  its  picture  of  what  the 
war  meant  to  women,  it  is  a  powerful  and  tragic  story,  quite  aa  worthy  of 
a  large  circle  of  readers  as  The  Crisis."— Springfield  Kepublican. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  by  the  publishers  on  receipt  of  price. 

Small,  Maynard  &  Company, 


An     Irish     Love     Story     of     1848. 

MONONIA. 

BY  JUSTIN  MCCARTHY,  M.P., 

Author  of  A  History  of  Our  Own  Times,  Dear  Lady  Disdain,  etc. 
12010,  green  cloth  and  gold.  $1.50 

Mr.  McCarthy  has  written  several  successful  novels;  but  none/ 
perhaps,  will  have  greater  interest  for  his  American  readers  than 
this  volume,  in  which  he  writes  reminiscently  of  the  Ireland  of 
his  youth  and  the  stirring  events  which  marked  that  period. 
It  is  pre-eminently  an  old-fashioned  novel,  befitting  the  times  which 
it  describes,  and  written  with  the  delicate  touch  of  sentiment 
characteristic  of  Mr.  McCarthy's  fiction.  The  book  takes  its 
name  from  the  heroine,  a  charming  type  of  the  gentle-born  Irish 
woman.  In  the  development  of  the  romance,  the  attempts  for 
Ireland's  freedom,  and  the  dire  failures  that  culminated  at  Bal- 
lingary,  are  told  in  a  manner  which  give  an  intimate  insight  into 
the  history  of  the  Young  Ireland  movement.  If  the  book  cannot 
be  considered  autobiographical,  the  reader  will  not  forget  that  the 
author  was  contemporary  with  the  events  described,  and  will  have 
little  difficulty  in  perceiving  that  many  of  the  principal  characters 
are  strongly  suggestive  of  the  Irish  leaders  of  that  day,  which 
gives  the  book  scarcely  less  value  than  an  avowed  autobiography. 

"  Mononia   is   drawn   with   all    Mr.    McCarthy's   ancient   skill." 

London  Outlook. 

"  Beautiful  in  every  sense  is  this  '  Mononia.'  It  is  a  work  that  we 
could  expect  from  no  other  author,  for  it  is  largely  reminiscent. 
So,  besides  its  attractiveness  as  a  romance,  the  book  is  attractive 
as  an  informal  historical  document.  Read  in  either  of  these  lights, 
it  will  be  found  delightful." — Boston  Journal. 

"  Altogether  a  good  story.  .  .  .  Mononia  is  full  of  beauty,  tender 
ness,  and  that  sweet  and  wholesome  common  sense  which  is  so 
refreshing  when  found  in  a  woman." —  The  Pilot  (Boston). 

"The  description  of  the  affection  of  Mononia  and  Philip  is  a 
piece  of  literary  splendor." —  Boston  Courier. 

"  For  those  who  would  reject  its  historical  and  autobiographic 
phase,  there  remains  the  old-fashioned  love  romance,  full  of  fine 
Irish  spirit,  which  is  always  refreshing." — Mail  and  Express. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  by  the  publishers  on  receipt  of  price. 

Small,  Maynard  &  Company, 


An    Indian    "Tom     Brown    at     Rugby." 

THE  MIDDLE  FIVE 

Indian  Boys  at  School. 

BY    FRANCIS    LA   FLESCHE. 

With  a  colored  frontispiece  and  a  cover  decoration  by  Angel  de 
Cora.     I2mo,cloth.  $1.25 

The  author  of  this  book  is  a  full-blooded  Omaha  Indian,  a  gradu 
ate  of  the  National  University  Law  School  at  Washington  and 
a  fellow  of  the  American  Association  for  the  Advancement  of 
Science,  now  holding  a  responsible  position  in  the  Indian  Bureau 
at  Washington.  He  has  written  in  this  volume  a  remarkable 
series  of  sketches  of  the  life  of  young  Indians  in  a  mission  school 
established  in  1857  by  the  Presbyterian  Church  on  the  eastern 
boundary  of  the  Omaha  reservation.  The  volume  is  largely 
reminiscent  of  the  author's  own  school-days,  and  Mr.  La  Flesche 
announces  that  the  object  of  his  book  is  to  reveal  the  true  nature 
and  character  of  the  Indian  boy. 

"A  book  as  new  as  can  be,  echoing  nothing  whatever,  dealing  with  a  phase 
of  life  that  nobody  else  has  dealt  with, .  . .  valuable  because  it  is  simple,  direct, 
honest,  and  at  the  same  time  picturesque,  and  because  it  deals  with  a  hi? 
and  bitter  question, —  the  question  how  the  American  Indian  is  to  pass  from 
his  state  of  original  freedom  to  that  of  subservience  to  the  requirements  of 
European  civilization  in  its  American  expression." — Boston  Transcript. 

"  Any  boy  worthy  of  the  name  must  delight  in  it." — Rtbecca  Harding  Davis. 

"To  the  thoughtful  reader  these  sketches  possess  a  psychologic*!  interest 
which  cannot  be  described.  The  book  must  needs  be  read  to  ho  understood." 
Springfield  Union. 

"  A  story  that  deserves  a  place  among  classics  for  children." —  Chicago  Pott. 

"  There  is  in  this  book  a  double  interest,  that  of  the  text,  which  is  full  of  inter 
est,  and  al-»o  the  fact  that  we  are  receiving  Indian  literature  and  Indian 
thought  from  an  educated  mind  which  yet  cherishes  with  pride  all  the  tradi 
tions  and  incentive*  of  his  people.  The  stories  are  told  in  the  most  simple 
words,  tersely  and  yet  elegantly  and  pointedly." —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"Deserves  the  attention  of  all  who  care  to  know  more  of  the  red  men  of 
America."—  Han  Francisco  Argonaut. 

"  A  veritable  storehouse  of  delight  for  boys  of  all  «ize»  and  of  «very  class. 
Nor  will  the  enjoyment  of  the  book  be  confined  to  the  youthful  members  of 
the  family."—  Southern  Workman. 

"  Should  be  in  every  boy's  library."—  Brighton  (Eng.)  Herald. 

For  cale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  by  the  publishers  on  receipt  of  price. 

Small,  Maynard  &  Company, 


Two    Notable    Novels   by    Emma    Rayner. 

VISITING  THE  SIN 

A  Tale  of  Mountain  Life  in  Kentucky  and  Tennessee. 

1 2mo,  cloth,  with  cover  designed  by  T.  W.  BALL.  448  pages.  $  1 .50 
The  struggle  between  the  heroine's  love  and  her  determination  to 
visit  the  sin  upon  the  son  of  the  supposed  murderer  of  her  father 
forms  the  basis  of  the  story.  All  of  the  characters  are  vividly 
drawn,  and  the  action  of  the  story  is  wonderfully  dramatic  and 
lifelike.  The  period  is  about  1875. 

"  A  powerful,  well-sustained  story,  the  interest  in  which  does  not  flag  from 
the  lirst  chapter  to  the  last." —  Philadelphia  North  American. 

"  Unusually  powerful.  The  dramatic  plot  is  intricate,  but  not  obscure." — The 
Congregationalist. 

"  A  graphic  and  readable  piece  of  fiction,  which  will  stand  with  the  best  of  its 
time  concerning  humble  American  characters." — Providence  Journal, 

"Far  ahead  of  most  of  these  latter-day  Southern  novels."—  Southern  Star. 
"  The  people  in  the  story  are  persistently  real."—  Christian  Advocate. 


FREE  TO  SERVE 

A  Tale  of  Colonial  New  York. 

i2mo,  cloth,  with  a  cover  designed  by  MAXFIELD  PARRISH. 

434  pages.  $1.50 

"One  of  the  very  best  stories  of  the  Colonial  period  yet  written." — Philadel 
phia  Bulletin. 

"  We  have  here  a  thorough-going  romance  of  American  life  in  the  first  days  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  It  is  a  story  written  for  the  story's  sake,  and  right 
•vrell  written,  too.  Indians,  Dutch,  Frenchmen,  Puritans,  all  play  a  part.  The 
scenes  are  vivid,  the  incidents  novel  and  many." — The  Independent. 

"  The  writing  is  cleverly  done,  and  the  old-fashioned  atmosphere  of  old  Knick 
erbocker  days  is  reproduced  with  such  a  touch  of  verity  as  to  seem  an  actual 
chronicle  recorded  by  one  who  lived  in  those  days." —  Saturday  Evening  Post, 
Philadelphia. 

"  The  supreme  test  of  a  long  book  is  the  reading  of  it,  and  when  one  reaches 
the  end  of  free  to  Serve,  he  acknowledges  freely  that  it  is  the  best  book  that 
he  has  taken  up  for  a  long  time." —  Roston  Herald. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  by  the  publishers  on  receipt  of  price. 

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A   Remarkable    Study   of  Social   Life   in   America. 

DIFFERENCES 

BY  HERVEY  WHITE. 
I2mo,  cloth,  decorative,  320  pages.  $1.50 

"  It  is  treating  the  poor  as  a  class  and  employing  any  method  of 
handling  them  that  I  object  to.  ...  Why  can't  they  be  treated  as 
individuals,  the  same  as  other  people  ?  What  would  the  rich  think 
of  my  impertinence  if  I  went  about  the  world  treating  them  in  a 
peculiar  manner, —  as  if  they  were  not  real  people,  at  all,  but  only 
'the  rich,'  in  my  knowledge?  " — Hester  Carr,  in  Differences. 

"  Differences  Is  an  extraordinary  book. . . .  The  labor  question  is  its  primary 
concern,  and  the  caste  barrier  which  modern  conditions  have  erected  be 
tween  the  man  who  works  and  the  man  who  merely  lives.  This  is  no  new 
theme,  yet  Differences  is  new,  and  its  place  in  thoughtful  literature 
awaits  it.  The  only  argument  presented  by  Mr.  White  is  contained  in  the 
picture  he  spreads  before  us.  It  is  real,  and  set  out  with  bold,  firm  strokes, 
and  there  is  no  attempt  to  be  merely  artistic.  Genevieve  Radcliffe,  the  rich 
society  girl,  who  goes  to  work  charity  with  the  poor,  and  John  Wade,  the 
workman,  whose  situation  involves  all  the  tragedy  of  metropolitan  poverty, 
are  human,  if  they  be  not  typical.  They  embody  the  '  differences,'  and,  if 
they  do  not  point  the  way  to  equality,  it  is  because  American  civilization 
is  not  yet  ripe  for  them.  Withal,  the  book  is  not  a  tract.  It  is  worth  a 
thousand  such.  Informed  throughout  with  a  tender  simplicity,  a  sense 
of  the  beauty  of  common  things,  and  a  sincerity  that  brooks  no  question, 
it  carries  equal  appeal  to  the  student  of  economici  and  to  the  lover  of 
human  feeling." —  Philadelphia  North  American. 

"  There  is  no  end  of  philosophy  in  books  about  the  poor  and  how  to  reach 
them  and  send  rays  of  sunshine  into  their  world ;  but  few  books  get  at  the 
real  '  Differences '  that  exist  between  the  wealthy  classes  and  the  poor  as 
does  Mr.  Hervey  White.  . .  .  Difference*  is  vitally  interesting,  both  as  a  story 
and  as  a  moral  lesson.  ...  It  is  written  with  wholesome  enthusiasm  and  an 
intelligent  survey  of  real  facts." — Boston  Herald. 

"  The  method  employed  by  Mr.  Hervey  White  in  Differences  is  not  like  that 
of  any  author  I  have  ever  read  in  the  English  language.  It  resembles  strongly 
the  work  of  the  best  Russian  novelists,  it  seems  to  me,  and  particularly  that 
of  Dostoievsky,  and  yet  it  is  in  no  sense  an  imitation  of  those  writers :  it  is 
apparently  like  them  merely  because  the  author's  motives  and  ways  of 
thought  and  observation  are  like  them.  ...  I  have  never  before  read  any  such 
treatment  in  the  English  language  of  the  life  and  thought  of  laboring  people." 
—  Joseph  Edgar  Chamberlin,  in  Boston  Transcript. 

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Small,  Maynard  &  Company, 


A    Powerful    Realistic    Novel    of    American    Life. 

QUICKSAND 

BY  HERVEY  WHITE. 

I2mo,  cloth,  decorative,  328  pages.  $1.50 

Quicksand  is  a  strong  argument  against  a  certain  condition  which 
the  author  believes  exists  too  generally  in  American  society,  and 
is,  in  effect,  an  appeal  for  the  freedom  of  the  individual  in  family 
life.  It  is  a  powerful  tragedy,  developing  very  naturally  out  of 
the  effects  of  the  interference  of  parents  in  the  lives  of  their  chil 
dren,  and  of  brothers  and  sisters  in  the  affairs  of  each  other.  It 
becomes  therefore,  not  only  the  story  of  an  individual,  but  the 
life  history  of  an  entire  family,  the  members  of  which  are  portrayed 
with  astonishing  vividness  and  realism.  The  hero  of  the  book 
also  illustrates,  in  his  sufferings  and  failures,  the  unfortunate 
effects  of  a  too  narrow  orthodoxy  in  religion,  coupled  with  his 
family's  interference  with  his  growth  out  of  this  environment. 
Offsetting  the  tragedy  of  the  story  is  '  Hiram,"  the  "hired  man" 
of  the  family  in  its  earlier  New  England  days,  in  whom,  par 
ticularly,  the  reader's  interest  will  centre.  Patient,  kindly,  faithful, 
and  uncomplaining,  he  is  indeed  the  real  "  hero  "  of  the  tale,  the 
only  one  free  from  the  unfortunate  environments  of  the  other 
characters,  yet  forced  indirectly  to  suffer  also  because  of  them. 
It  is  the  every-day  life  of  the  every-day  family  that  is  drawn ;  and 
this  fact,  together  with  the  boldness  and  fidelity  of  the  drawing. 
gives  the  story  its  power  and  impressiveness. 

"  Hervey  "White  is  the  most  forceful  writer  who  has  appeared  in  America  for 
a  long  generation." —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

1 '  We  cannot  remember  another  book  in  which  lives,  thoughts,  emotions,  souls, 
and  principles  of  action  have  been  analyzed  with  such  convincing  power.  Mr. 
Hervey  White  has  great  literary  skill.  He  has  here  made  his  mark,  and  he  has 
come  to  stay.  . .  .  He  is  the  American  George  Gissing,  and  as  such  some  day 
he  will  have  to  be  taken  into  account." —  Boston  Herald. 

"It  should  insure  Mr.  White  a  permanent  place  in  the  critical  regard  of  hia 
fellow-countrymen.  .  .  .  Few  characters  as  strong  as  that  of  Elizabeth  Hinckley 
have  ever  been  drawn  by  an  American  author,  and  she  will  remain  in  the  mind 
of  the  most  assiduous  novel  reader,  secure  of  a  place  far  above  that  held  by 
most  of  the  puny  creations  of  the  day." —  Chicago  Tribune. 

"  It  is  wrought  of  enduring  qualities.  Few  novels  are  so  sustained  on  an  ele- 
Tated  plane  of  interest."—  Philadelphia  Item. 

"It  is  a  novel  that  takes  hold  of  one,  and  is  not  the  sort  of  book  that,  once 
begun,  can  be  laid  down  without  being  finished." — Indianapolis  News. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  by  the  publishers  on  receipt  of  price. 

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